


Love in four count

by Thighz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Injury, Depression, Just two soldiers trying to get by, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/Thighz
Summary: From strangers to fuck-buddies to friends to lovers.A love story for two soldiers told in four parts.





	1. Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for _ages_ and I finally have enough time and a decent enough outline to present it to you for the Christmas season.
> 
> I miss the nostalgia from In the language of flowers, so I dug back into my 'slow burn' folder and pulled out this beauty.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

  
  
  


 

 

**Strangers**

  
  
  
  


 

 

Jack meets Gabe at the grocery store. 

It’s two o’clock in the morning and he should already be nestled under his covers, but instead his knuckles are bloody from a street brawl. He has ice wrapped around one, while the other reaches for the milk he needs to have breakfast before work in five hours. 

Gabe is hunched over the egg and cheese center in the middle of the aisle. There’s a beanie covering his head, but Jack can make out the fully-grown beard even from his spot at the milk fridge. The man is dressed for bed, military PT sweats, a black shirt with two holes ripped on the sides. Flipflops. 

Jack can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. 

Gabe is an elusive creature. Jack only sees him late on Friday’s and almost always at the same time. He only knows Gabe’s name because the cashier, the red-head with the too-chipper-for-two-am expression, apparently knows him well. 

Gabe straightens, egg carton in hand and twists around to head for the front of the store. Jack checks to make sure he has the right milk one more time before following. 

Marlene, the cashier, is at her post. She smiles wide when Gabriel hands her the eggs and a five-dollar bill.

“Failed again?” She asks, swiping it through the scanner.  

Jack waits in line behind him, digging his wallet out of his pocket and wincing as his knuckles graze the fabric. He lets out a hiss and jerks them out, shaking his hand and glaring down at the reopened scabs. 

When he looks back up, Marlene is frowning at his knuckles and giving him a stern look of scrutiny. 

Jack curls his hands into a fist and manages a bright smile, “Took a spill outside the bar.” 

Gabe is watching him from the corner of his eye, hand wrapped around the middle of the egg carton. He takes his change from Marlene, who seems placated by Jack’s shitty excuse, and wanders out the door. It dings behind him and Jack nearly sighs out loud in relief. 

“Watch your step next time.” She huffs, handing him his change as he bags his own milk. 

He gives her a nod and flips the hood of his blue sweater up against the October chill. His nose instantly chills and the scent of cigarette smoke fills his nostrils. 

He wrinkles his nose and glances around for the source of the scent. 

Gabe is leaning against the building under the awning, cigarette between his fingers. His eggs are tucked up under his armpit and his eyes burn as they meet Jack’s. 

Jack clears his throat, “Uh-good night.” He tries to make his escape, heart hammering inside his chest.

“You don’t seem like the type to trip.” 

Jack chuckles nervously and rubs his injured hand over the top of his hoodie. He’s waited  _ months _ to hear Gabe’s voice. Of course, it sounds honeyed and perfect, but the suspicion under all that beauty taints the words. 

“It was just a disagreement outside a friend’s bar.” He drops the hand, fidgets with his bag of milk, “Didn’t mean to scare your friend.” He nods towards the front door of the shop. 

Gabe puts the butt out against the brick wall, “Look, I see you in here a lot. Just don’t bring that trouble with you, alright?” 

Jack nods eagerly, shifts back on one foot, “I don’t usually start bar fights.” 

A grin ticks at the corner of Gabe’s mouth, “But at least you finish them?”

Pride laces through Jack at the smile, the curious tone, “He won’t be causing trouble for them again.” 

Gabe nods and pushes away from the wall, “Good.” He nods his head once, walks past Jack towards a black motorcycle near the front of the store. Gabe smells like  _ cinnamon _ and clove, Jack’s stomach rumbles pleasantly at the scent, “See ya around, Jack.” He waves a gloved hand in Jack’s direction, mounts the bike, and drives off. 

Jack nearly melts into the concrete, but he knows he has quite the walk back to his apartment. So, he commits Gabe’s scent to memory and starts the long trudge home. 

  
  
  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


Jack’s apartment is small, but it’s the best he can afford on a bartender's salary. His furniture consists of hand-me-downs from his mother’s side of the family. The shelves are lined with family photos and friends from back home. The coffee table holds his dishes from the night before and a couple of beer bottles.

He sets about cleaning up, despite the late morning hour, and gets the trash ready for the sunrise. A shower comes next, water lukewarm at best, but better than the cold water from his last place. 

An hour later, he collapses into bed and smiles at the ceiling. 

He allows himself a few minutes to daydream about a life outside of living paycheck to paycheck. Of coming home and not having to worry about the red bars on his next mailed bill sitting in the apartment box.

Then he takes a moment to thank whoever controlled the universe that his shitty job as a bartender lead him to a 24-hour market at 2 am. Where he met the most beautiful man on the planet and the proceeded to  _ never talk to him. _

Coward.

Fucking  _ coward _ .

He’s stormed enemy hideouts and made grown men beg for their lives. He commanded a unit of men and women who took down one of the largest criminal bands responsible for civilian deaths and human trafficking.

But he can’t pull up his pants and ask the man named ‘Gabe’ on a date.

Coward, indeed.

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

  
  
  


“You know what’s the best way to get sleep on a bartender’s schedule?” Jesse leans across the bar, hat tipped low over his forehead and grinning from ear to ear.

“Please enlighten me.” Jack is wiping the counters down, getting them shiny and ready for the influx of people that will be pouring in on the hour.

“Actually going home after your shift and sleeping.” Jesse slaps the counter, stopping the rag in its tracks, “You look like death.”

Jack scowls up at him, “You know I don’t sleep well.”

“Then go see a doctor and get something for the nightmares.” Jesse hisses, “For fucks sake Jack, you look like death warmed over  _ and _ you look like a goddamn criminal under that hoodie.” He snatches the rag away, “Go home and get some rest.”

Jack grits his teeth, controls the burning anger rising like bile in his chest, “I’m  _ fine. _ I can’t skip work and you know it. I have bills to pay.”

“Ana’ll give you an extra shift if you ask.” Jesse says, “You know she’ll work you in and give you extra, but you gotta sleep.”

_ I’ll sleep when I’m dead. _

But he doubts Jesse’ll take those famous words to heart right now, seeing as he’s scowling at Jack and holding his rag hostage.

“And who will man the bar?” Jack huffs.

“Me.” Jesse tosses the rag over his shoulder, “Now git.”

Jack puts his hands up in defeat and exits the bar. He’s just setting down the divider when Ana walks through the door by the stairs. She lifts an eyebrow at him as she walks past, heels clicking against the hardwood floors.

“Oh. Did you finally talk him into going home?” She tosses at Jesse as he slips behind the bar and sets about prepping the fruits.

“You betcha.” Jesse bends his head down and gets to work.

Ana pats Jack on the shoulder, “Good. You can take a double on Saturday  _ if _ you get some sleep.” She smiles up at him, “Now get out of my bar.”

Jack sighs at the ceiling, “Yes ma’am.”

He leaves the bar behind, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. The roads are still filled with five o’clock traffic at close to seven. People shout into their cell phones and at each other as he waits near the bus stop. It smells like _ city _ and Jack suddenly wishes he were anywhere but here.

He wishes he was brave enough to suck it up and go home, where he knows his parents will let him back in. No questions asked.

Hell, he’ll even take the foxholes overseas over this loud, smelly place. Except he’s discharged now, and he has no desire to lose the rest of his sanity to sand and bombs and blood.

So, he waits at the bus stop and closes his eyes, trying to drown out the constant chatter of humans and the screech of toddlers. He only knows the bus is there by the smell of the exhaust it releases coming to a halt two feet from the actual sign.

Jack shoves through men in suits and woman carrying bags of groceries, hoping to get a secluded corner spot where no one will touch him. He succeeds and burrows as close to the corner as possible, fingers wrapped tight around the ring hanging above his head.

The ride is mundane and slow. It pitches forward and backward, sending Jack into the cold glass of the window. People move like waves on a beach with every stop the bus makes and Jack lulls himself to the sights and sounds of it.

He’s glad to hear his stop announced after almost an hour riding.

No one else gets out with him and he thanks the universe for that. It’s a relatively short walk in the direction of his apartment. That is, until he glances up from under the edge of his hoodie and spots a familiar bike in the parking lot of the 24-hour market.

Jack shoves the hood back and pauses, chewing at his bottom lip and debating with himself on whether to go inside.

He steps through the doors a minute later, snatching a hand basket from the holder and making his way to the pharmaceuticals aisle. The pharmacist eyes him from where she’s ringing a customer up, but Jack avoids her gaze and concentrates on the sleep aids in front of him.

There are a dozen of them, some name brand, some store brand. His fingers glide over the packaging, wishing he knew what the best was. He doesn’t want to ask the pharmacist, that leads to questions he doesn’t want to answer. Jack knows what he looks like when he hasn’t slept. It’s not pretty and Jesse was right, he  _ needs _ sleep. People don’t tip bartenders who look like shit warmed.

“Can’t sleep?”

Jack startles at the familiar honeyed voice. He glances up from the meds, hand curled around one of the packages. Gabe is staring at him, hands tucked into the leather of his jacket and beanie pulled tight over his ears to block out the cold outside. Dark eyes drop down to the package Jack was about to say, ‘to hell with it’ and buy.

“Don’t get anything that will knock you out. Get something that’s meant to ease you into it.” Gabe taps a white bottle and the pills inside jiggle, “I use this.”

“Falling asleep isn’t the problem.” Jack mumbles, lowering his gaze back to the double strength meds.

A gloved hand curls around his bicep, “I feel ya, but you’ll regret it in the morning. Feels like you’ve been run over by a mac truck.” The other gloved hand plucks the bottle from the lineup and shakes it in front of Jack’s nose, “Try it.”

Jack closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering sigh, “Alright.” He takes the bottle from Gabe’s hand and sets it in his basket.

“I’d suggest a milk tea too.” Gabe clears his throat and points towards the drink aisle, “Warm it up and turn all the lights off.”

Jack lifts an eyebrow, “You do this often?”

Gabe laughs, and the sound is better than any music Jack has ever heard, “You have literally seen me here at 2 in the morning on a regular basis.”

Jack grins, “I assumed you were just a vampire and preferred to sleep during the day.”

“Ah.” Gabe slaps a hand over the left side of his chest, “You caught me.”

Jack chuckles, adjusting the basket into the crook of his elbow, “Thanks though. I appreciate the expertise.”

Gabe smiles, fingers tapping away on the fabric of his red shirt, “Anytime. I’m always in the egg and milk aisle if you ever need me.” He tosses Jack a wave and heads towards the front of the store empty handed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jack mutters to himself, watching Gabe tell the cashier good-bye and disappear through the glass doors. He can hear the motorcycle roar to life outside and Jack pictures him setting a helmet over his head and zipping up that ridiculously sexy jacket. He looks down at the bottle of sleep pills in his basket for a second longer before following the given advice and heading straight for the coffee and tea aisle.

He leaves the store with two boxes of tea, the pills, and four bottles of water from the cooler by the cash registers.

Then comes the cold walk home.

He makes it in twenty minutes at a brisk pace and unlocks the apartment door with cold, shaky hands. Warmth greets him on the other side and he sighs happily with the knowledge that at least the heat in the building functions better than the hot water heaters.

Jack unloads his groceries and follows the instructions on the back of the tea boxes to make his first cup. He gets a text from Jesse while the cup spins around in the microwave.

_ U sleeping yet? _

Jack snorts.  _ If I was, wouldn’t you be interrupting me? _

_ SLEEP JACK _

_ Don’t worry. I just got in and my bed is ready to go.  _

_ I want eight hours under you belt. No exceptions. _

Jack doesn’t try to text Jesse back and tell him that he may get  _ four, _ tops. It’s useless to explain that to him, so Jack just plugs his phone into the charger, takes the warmed mug from the microwave and heads to bed.

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


His phone reads  _ two thirty-five _ am. 

Six hours.

Jack rolls onto his back and lets out a relived breath of air. He feels a thousand times better, but his stomach is growling and falling asleep at 8 pm might not have been his best idea.

He takes the coffee mug from his bedside table and shuffles back into the kitchen. His hands wash the cup on autopilot and he tidies up the mess of tea bags he apparently left scattered across the counter.

It’s almost 3 am by the time he’s done, and his fridge is empty of anything substantial to eat.

He dons his heavier jacket and tucks into his snow boots before locking up and heading back out into the winter night.

The streets are empty, save for one or two lonely cars. There are flakes floating down from the starless sky and each one makes his nose scrunch up from the chill on his skin. He tugs the hood of his jacket as tight around his ears as he can and battles the windy street.

The market’s bright ass sign is an instant relief.

He pushes through the doors and shakes the snow off his shoulders before heading deeper inside.

The freezer section is his mark. Just a couple of frozen meals to tide him over until pay day, when he can go actual grocery shopping.

“Did the tea not work?”

Jack pauses in his perusing of the chicken pot pies when Gabe’s voice interrupts him for a second time. When he looks up, Gabe is dressed in sweat pants and a maroon sweater and looking every inch at home in the middle of the florescent-lite grocery store. Jack’s stomach twists and he kinda wishes, just for a second, that he was at home and Gabe was walking around his apartment dressed like that. Safe and comfortable and in Jack’s life.

It’s a stupid wish.

Gabe is a  _ stranger _ . Gabe is just passing him by, offering a little helping of advice before returning to his own home. One he probably shares with someone who isn’t Jack.

“It did.” Jack promises, “Six hours later.” He waves a hand down the length of his chest and Gabe’s gaze follows the motion, “Good as new.”

Dark eyes flick back up, “Good to hear. Hungry?”

Jack reaches into the cooler and snatches a pot pie, “Famished.” He tucks the pie under his arm and searches for another meal for breakfast in the morning.

“Put that shit back.” Gabe waves a hand at him, “There’s a diner near my place that’s open all night.”

Jack frowns and waves the pot pie, “I’m eating freezer meals for a reason.”

Gabe quirks an eyebrow, “I’ll spot you.”

_ You don’t even know me _ , Jack thinks.

Except he really wants to go. He wants to sit across a bright-colored booth and chat with someone he doesn’t work with. Or his mom. Or his dad. He needs a  _ someone else _ . A stranger will have to do.

“Yea. Okay.” Jack sets the pot pies back into the freezer and it suctions shut when he lets the handle go.

“You nervous on bikes?” Gabe questions as they head for the front doors.

Jack shrugs, “Can’t say, I’ve never been on one.”

The wind bites at his cheeks as they step outside. Jack pulls his hood up against it, wincing as it still coats his nose in frosty, wet flakes. Winter is not Jack’s favorite time of year. He  _ loathes _ the cold.

Gabe hands him a helmet, “Lucky I had my spare with me, or we’d be walking.”

Jack takes it and tries it on, it’s a tight fit, but better than nothing. He watches Gabe settle on the bike and start her up. Gabe turns to him, face unreadable behind the visor of the helmet.

“It’s a short drive,” His voice is also muffled from the helmet and Jack mourns the loss of that perfect voice for a moment, “But don’t lean into the turns, keep your hands low, and stay flush with my back, got it?”

“Got it.” Jack affirms, tossing his leg over the second seat of the cycle and setting his hands low on Gabe’s hips.

He swallows at the feel of denim and soft fabric under his hands. Gabe’s hips shift as he settles lower against the tank and Jack’s heartrate skyrockets. He curls his forefingers into the belt loops of Gabe’s pants and presses his chest along the firm line of Gabe’s back. He can feel the thick leather through his own jacket and can smell soap and cinnamon. Gabe smells  _ delicious _ and Jack is suddenly starving for something else entirely.

Gabe pushes his foot off the asphalt and they’re weaving out of the parking lot in a matter of seconds. Jack follows the three rules to the letter as Gabe drives them through the sparse ‘middle of the fucking night’ traffic. Before long, he can see the flickering lights from a diner on the corner of the street. It’s parking lot is small, barely holding fifteen cars and only three are taken.

Gabe parks near the front door, parallel to a handicap spot. The lines are faded, paint nearly gone.

Jack flexes his frozen fingers as the motorcycle’s growl stops and Gabe sets a boot on the ground. He pulls his hands away, disappointment settling low in his belly, but disappearing swiftly when he remembers that Gabe has to drive him home. Or at least back to the market.

Gabe sets the kickstand as they pull their helmets off. He leads Jack into the dinner, a small bell chiming above them as they enter the glorious warmth.

Jack is bowled over by the salty smell of bacon and the thick, sweet smell of syrup. The scent of coffee is mixed in there somewhere, and its physical representation is steaming away with a fresh batch behind the counter.

Gabe waves him to a booth and sits on the side with a window at his back. Jack takes the other side.

“You good with me ordering for you?” Gabe asks, tapping the plastic menus between them.

Jack grins, “Sure. I’ll trust your judgment.”

“Dangerous.” Gabe mirrors the grin, waving two fingers at the waiter behind the counter. The kid nods back, twisting around to grab two mugs and the fresh pot of coffee. His tennis shoes squeak across the floor as he walks around the counter and sets the mugs in front of them.

“Gabe.” The kid nods, dreads down his back and wearing a pair of green headphones around his neck.

“Lucio.” Gabe acknowledges, “You don’t normally work this late.”

Lucio shrugs, “Hana’s second job needed her, so I volunteered.” He nods towards Jack, “Who’s your friend?”

“Jack.” Jack curls his fingers into the mug and holds it steady while Lucio pours.

“Nice to meet you Jack.” Lucio smiles, “Gabe doesn’t bring visitors. Ever.”

“Thanks, kid. Go put our order in.” Gabe grits out, pointing to the kitchen.

Lucio laughs and twists around to return to his post. Jack watches him scribble something down on a pad and rip the paper free before setting it on the silver divider between front counter and kitchen.

“Did you take me to your secret garden?” Jack leers, bringing the coffee to his lips. He blows the steam away, tests it on his tongue.

Gabe rolls his eyes and upturns the glass sugar dispenser over his cup, “Hardly.” He adds four mini-creamer cups and stirs it, eyes staring down as if to make sure the coffee was the perfect shade of blonde.

“You don’t strike me as someone with a sweet tooth.” Jack takes a heavier sip, then holds the cup between his still defrosting fingers.

“Love sweet shit.” Gabe grumbles, tapping the spoon against the edge and setting it on the table, “How can you drink that black?” He wrinkles his nose.

“Easy.” Jack shrugs, “Didn’t have access to the finer things-.” He waves at the cream and sugar, “Back in-.” He pauses, frowns down at his coffee. Shit, he didn’t want to bring his service up yet. He’d lost a fuckton of dates already after telling them he’d been overseas.

_ I’m not ready for that kind of…..commitment. _

They mean they aren’t ready to deal with a fucked up soldier. 

And Jack’s not bitter, hell, he doesn’t want to deal with himself most days. He can’t imagine another human being having to watch him with worried eyes 24 hours a day.

“Where did you serve?” Gabe asks.

Jack glances up just as Lucio brings a tray filled with four plates. Two containing eggs, sausage, ham, and grits, the other two holding four pancakes each. His stomach growls.

Lucio sets the plates between them, “Shout if you need me.”

“Will do. Thanks, Lucio.” Gabe grabs a fork and splits his eggs open.

Jack does the same, then coats his cakes in butter and drizzles a little syrup over the top. Whereas Gabe dumps damn near the entire container over his.

“Six months in Iraq. Four in Afghanistan. Eight somewhere I’m not supposed to say.” Jack finally replies, cutting a slice of sausage in half. 

“Damn.” Gabe mumbles, “Classified shit?”

Jack nods carefully, “It was my last tour before I was discharged.”

Gabe’s knife scrapes the plate as he cuts his pancakes into a triangle bites, “You saw more time than I did. I only spent eleven months total in Afghanistan.” He raises two fingers, “And that was two separate tours.”

All the tension Jack was holding in his body evaporates instantly. He practically sags against the edge of the table and his fingers relax around the fork, “You’re-.”

“Same as you.” Gabe points his fork at him, “Figured as much. The weird hours. The bloody knuckles.  Obvious lack of sleep.”

Jack glances down at the calloused scars on the backs of his hands, “I really did just get in a quick fight.”

“Quick fight means wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am,” Gabe’s eyes are  _ dark _ and knowing and Jack’s chest tightens, “You took your time fucking them up. Hence the bloody knuckles.” He returns to his meal.

Jack’s throat hurts. His chest hurts. But not in a bad way. God, he feels like he could blurt out everything he’s ever felt. He feels like a weight has been lifted that he didn’t even consciously know was there.

For the remainder of the meal, they talk rank, jobs, the basic bullshit that comes with serving. Gabe talks about his squads, the three different ones he served with, how much he hates how sand gets into  _ everything _ . Jack hated digging the holes, cold showers, the fact that he had no one to come home too.

“Yea. Just my  _ abuela. _ ” Gabe sighs, “And she passed away about a year after I got out.”

“I have my parents.” Jack mutters, stacking his plates on the edge of the table, “But I couldn’t burden them with my problems.”

“Did they offer?” Gabe asks, folding his hands.

Yes.  _ Still _ offers.

“Yea.” Jack shrugs, “But I’m twenty-eight. They don’t need me wandering around the farmhouse like a ghost.”

And isn’t that what he is now?

Gabe lifts an eyebrow, “That how you see it?”

Jack laughs drily, “Yea. I  _ love _ waking up in the middle of the night and standing in the middle of my apartment like a maniac trying to figure out whether I’m still in a foxhole or standing in my house.” Because he still can’t pull the pieces together before he breaks something. Before he screams himself awake.

“I put my fist through my window once.” Gabe sets his chin in hand, “My roommate moved out after that one. There was a lot of blood and I don’t remember much of it.” His eyes stare out the window, watching a car pass slowly, “Hell, I don’t even remember the pain. Just kept telling them ‘civilians are trapped inside’ over and over.” 

Jack leans in on his forearms, “Shit, that’s rough. I haven’t injured myself yet.”

“Good.” Gabe winces, “It’s not fun to explain in the ER.”

“I bet.” Jack mutters.

“They just give you these pity stares.” Gabe snorts, “And you know they mean well, but it’s annoying.”

Jack understands. It’s the main reason why he doesn’t go home. His parents want him there, he’s pretty sure they’d give him as much time as he needed. Except Jack couldn’t spent a week with them watching him out of the corner of their eyes. Waiting to see if he’d snap.

“Better to be alone.” Jack admits.

“Sometimes.” Gabe agrees softly and he’s  _ looking _ at Jack now, mouth a line of curiosity. It stirs that happy nausea back to life inside Jack’s stomach, but he doesn’t say anything. Just watches Gabe take the check from Lucio and pay with cash, leaving the kid a substantial tip.

They walk out the front door together and Jack is surprised to see the thin, pink line that means the sun will be rising soon.

He checks his phone, only to find it’s not in his pockets and he left it charging at home, “Damn. What time is it?”

Gabe pulls the cuff of his jack up, revealing a grey watch on his wrist, “0516.”

Jack tips his head back with a groan, “Later than I expected to stay out. Shit.”

Gabe laughs and sets the keys in the ignition of the bike, “Got somewhere to be?”

“No.” Jack sets the helmet on his hip, “But I promised my boss I’d get eight hours before they’d let me go back to work.”

Gabe nods, taps his fingers over his helmet, “Gonna try that tea again?”

Jack sighs, “Might as well, can’t hurt to get a couple more hours.”

“You could do that  _ or _ -.” Gabe sets his helmet on the set of the bike, “You could finally kiss me like you’ve been looking like you want to do for weeks and I can fuck you back to sleep.”

Jack’s jaw drops, and he watches Gabe step into his space, finger pressing up beneath his chin and clicking his mouth shut.

“What’ll it be?” Gabe murmurs, eyes on Jack’s mouth, “Tea or me?”

Jack would like door number two  _ please _ .

Gabe seems to take the hint, it’s probably written all over Jack’s face. Those strong, leather covered arms curl around Jack’s neck and he’s assaulted by that sweet cinnamon scent again.

Gabe’s mouth teases along his own, breath smelling like coffee and pancakes and bacon. Jack only has one hand free, but he hooks his fingers into the loops of Gabe’s jeans and tugs him closer. He tilts his head and drops down to deepen the kiss.

Gabe opens for him, tongue tasting and body solid and warm against Jack’s own. He’s only a hair shorter than Jack, the perfect height for a kiss that doesn’t strain the neck.

Gabe’s fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging the longer strands and raking his nails down the top of his spine. His mouth is a furnace and it’s doing wonderful things to Jack’s dick, and that could also be because he hasn’t gotten laid in over a year.

But no, it’s not that, Jack thinks as Gabe parts, brown eyes completely blown to black and looking like he wants to dive in for another kiss. Jack obliges, tugging at Gabe’s bottom lip and shivering as the other man groans. Gabe then mimics the action and sends the rest of Jack’s blood rushing south.

Gabe pulls away with a grin, “Point me in the direction of your house, Jack.” He grabs his helmet and straddles the bike.

Jack takes a deep breath, wonders for a split second if this is really a good idea.

_ Fuck it _ , he thinks, tugging on the helmet and settling himself behind Gabe on the bike.

It’s not like he has anything left to lose.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all ready for another Reaper76 journey with me. 
> 
> I'm so excited for this.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support, comments, and kudos! Ya'll keep me going strong.
> 
>  **Update and Edit:** There is artwork for this fic now! Please check it out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Coelasquid/status/936063397665181697) and [Tumblr](https://coecretsquid.tumblr.com/post/168183330448/gabrielsthighz-started-a-new-atmospheric-wintery)!


	2. Fuck-buddies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited about the reception of this? Thank you all so much!
> 
> I meant to get this chapter up sooner, but I had to wait on a new laptop to come in.
> 
> (Bonus!: There is artwork for this fic now! Please check it out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Coelasquid/status/936063397665181697) and [Tumblr](https://coecretsquid.tumblr.com/post/168183330448/gabrielsthighz-started-a-new-atmospheric-wintery)!)
> 
> so without delay,
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

 

**Fuck-buddies**

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

Gabe is a patient man. He has to be, or well, he  _ had _ to be at one point in his life. That patience seemed to cross over the ocean and follow him back to the states after his final tour. When you were a sniper, patience was key. It was  _ important. _ It meant the difference between the right target and the wrong one. And heaven help him if he jumped the gun and shot the wrong guy.

Not that anyone gave a flying fuck over there.

Collateral damage was nothing to the united states military. 

So Gabe made it his mission to be patient, to wait for the final moment. To make sure he wouldn’t make any mistakes. To make sure he picked the right target before pulling the trigger and painting the walls red.

But for the first time in Gabe’s entire life, he didn’t want to  _ wait patiently _ while the tired-looking blonde man skirted around him at the grocery store. He wanted Jack to stop giving him that sad, stilted smile and just  _ ask already. _

Except he would just hide his bruised, bloody knuckles in the pockets of his jacket and avoid any sort of eye contact. It was infuriating. 

It only made Gabriel bolder.

Now he has Jack under him, over him, shoved up against the peeling sheetrock of Jack’s apartment hallway. Rough winter gloves are up the back of his shirt as he tries fitfully to shed himself of his leather jacket.

Jack’s mouth his eager and wet against his neck, beard scraping across the flesh. His gloved fingers pet at Gabe’s spine just as the jacket hits the floor with a loud sound.

Gabe kicks it out of the way, yanking Jack by the shirt, “Where is your room?”

Jack leads the way, stealing rough kisses and tossing Gabe’s beanie on the the sofa as they pass. His hands are big, insistent as they pull Gabriel through the doorway of a small room and maneuver him to the edge of a well-made bed. He doesn’t want to part from the kiss, but Jack guides him down, kneels buckling and ass hitting the mattress.

The blonde drops to his knees and makes quick work of relieving Gabriel of his boots and jeans. Jack shoves them out of the way and lifts Gabe’s right leg up and over his shoulder, giving him easy access to his thighs and the throbbing erection in his boxers.

Gabe hisses, one hand tangling in the sheets, the other in Jack’s hair, as he nibbles the flesh behind his knee. It’s sensitive and it tickles and it’s too goddamn  _ slow _ , but it’s hard to say no when you have six foot of gorgeous blonde eager between your legs.

Then Jack takes his time.

He trails wet kisses from knee to inner thigh, eyes closed and clearly enjoying every second of what he’s doing.

Gabe allows the pleasure to sit warm and comfortable in his stomach, eyes half-lidded as Jack mouths at his cock through the fabric of his underwear. He notices there’s some white streaking through Jack’s blonde locks. The strain of military life. Gabe’s got some of his own at the temples.

He wonders for a moment if they’re both too goddamn young to be going grey, then Jack pulls his cock through the slit of his boxers and swallows him straight down.

“Holy hell.” Gabe sucks in a breath, fingers tightening on Jack’s scalp.

Jack sucks cock like he has nowhere to be anytime soon. His hand, still covered in those goddamn gloves, wraps tight around the thigh currently over his shoulder, squeezing as he sinks down further onto Gabe’s dick. His nose nestles in the hair at Gabe’s groin and he can’t help but groan, low and long, trying to keep his hips from rising into the tight warmth.

Jack’s other hand curls around his ankle, keeping that leg anchored to the floor with a strength that Gabe is all too familiar with. His toes curl and he releases the hold on Jack’s hair, dropping back onto his elbows.

He relishes in the careful, hot attention lavishing his cock. His head tips back, mouth open and breathing stuttered from the pleasure.

Jack’s curtains are open at his single window. The dawn is bright blue and pink, snow sticks to the window and flutters past the glass.

Jack does something wicked with his tongue and Gabe tenses up, tearing at the bed sheets and clamping down around Jack’s shoulders. The heat spears through him and he’s a hair's breadth away from coming down the back of Jack’s throat.

“Fuck-.” Gabe pants, kicking the heel of his foot between Jack’s shoulder blades, “I’m going to-.”

Jack chuckles and it vibrates down his cock and up into his belly, sending tingles and goosebumps across his flesh. Blue eyes open and Gabe meets them across the long line of his body. Still wearing his shirt. His underwear. Jack isn’t even  _ undressed. _

“Oh  _ fuck _ . Fuck. Fuck-.” Gabe curls inward with the force of it, calves yanking Jack closer and dick kicking hard within the confines of his throat.

Jack’s hands stroke up and down his thighs, his ankle, humming as he swallows all Gabe has to offer.

Gabe hisses as his dick slips, sensitive and still throbbing, from Jack’s mouth.

Jack lowers his leg down to the floor and watches him patiently from between his legs. Waiting for him to come down no doubt.

Gabe laughs hoarsely, “I said I was going to fuck you.”

Jack gives a shrug, grinning, “Plenty of time for that yet. Figured I should thank you for breakfast and the ride home first.”

Gabe collapses onto the sheets, “Jack, I am going to give you a ride every day.”

A thumb strokes between his hip and groin, “Promises. Promises.” A kiss follows and Jack joins him on the bed.

He turns his neck to watch Jack shed his shirt and boots, pulling the gloves off with his teeth. There’s a nice tent behind the fly of his pants and Gabe’s body warms, hands itching to unwrap what he’s sure is a magnificent gift.

Once Jack is in his boxers and settled against the pillows, Gabe wastes no time in dipping his hand under the elastic band. Jack’s body arches like a cat at the first touch of Gabe’s hand around his cock. Those long, blonde lashes flutter and an arm wraps under Gabe’s body, fingers curling into a fist at his lower back.

Gabe brings him off slow, taking as much time as Jack did with his mouth.

Jack breathes his name over and over. His knees spread and his toes dig into the sheets as the pleasure rises.

If Gabe thought Jack was gorgeous before, it’s nothing compared to the twisted pleasure on his face as he comes over Gabe’s fist.

“Whew.” Jack’s body melts into the mattress, “I needed that.”

Gabe chuckles, snatching a shirt from the floor to clean his hand and Jack’s dick. He spots a hamper near the doorway and tosses it across the room. It sinks into the basket with no resistance and Jack whistles.

“Nice.”

“I played in high school.” Gabe grins.

“Never woulda guessed.” Jack hums, reaching over to the night stand. His hand hesitates over the button that turns the lights off, “You uh...staying?”

God, he wants to.

The urge to curl up into Jack’s side and have another go round in a few hours is awfully tempting. But he has work and Sombra will kill him if he shows up late again.

“Nah. Got work.” He rolls over to the edge of the bed and starts to gather what clothes he shed in this room.

“Can I have you number?”

It’s the boldest request Jack’s asked of him. Gabe turns his head and watches Jack shift nervously under his gaze. His chest is flush from the orgasm and he still looks dog-tired, but there’s something different now. Peaceful.

“Sure. Got something I can write on?”

“I have a grocery pad on the refrigerator.” Jack offers.

“That’ll do.” Gabe pulls on his boots, tying them around the ankles as is habit, “See ya around, Jackie.” He rises to his feet and gives Jack a wave.

Jack manages a tired smile before rolling over.

“Don’t steal anything on the way out!” He hears Jack shout as he strolls into the kitchen.

Gabe snorts, quickly penning his number on the notepad.

He takes a moment to scan Jack’s apartment. There’s not much except for worn down furniture, dishes scattered here and there. The shelves, however, are lined with photos. Family, it look like, judging by the woman whose eyes are identical to Jack’s and the man Jack shares his sharp jawline with.

Gabe hums, slipping his jacket on and grabbing his helmet from where they were dropped near the front door. He lifts the spare one up, scanning it for a moment and wondering if he should take it with him or take a chance and leave it here. Maybe Jack will want this again?

He glances back at the apartment for a second, then doubles back into the kitchen to set the helmet on the counter near the coffee pot. He gives it a little pat in farewell and slips out the front door.

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


Gabe doesn’t see Jack for a few days. Doesn’t hear from him. No texts, no calls. Hell, he doesn’t even see him at the grocery store.

“And he has your helmet!” Sombra laughs from her spot at the cash register. 

Gabe scowls at her from over the cart of books he’s organizing. She grins back at him, chin in hand and hair bright blue for the holidays.

The book store in empty at this time of day and the snow outside is getting thicker with every passing hour.

He sets another book in alphabetical order and knows this’ll be his last day to ride the bike. So the helmet isn’t his top priority, per say. But hell, it’d be nice to get a ‘sorry, been busy’ text from the man who gave him a killer blow job. 

A memory in which Gabe has jerked off to every night for the past four days. Should feel pathetic, but hey he hasn’t been laid in months. Beggars can’t be choosy.

“Was he that good?” Sombra appears at his side.

Gabe shoves another book into a slot, “I am not having this discussion with you.”

“Too bad, I’m asking.” She counters.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to actually reply.” Gabe snorts, rising from his knees and loathing the crack his left one gives.

“Is he at least, I dunno, cute? You picked him up at a grocery store of all places.” She leans against the cart, “Who even does that anymore? Haven’t you heard of Grinder?”

Gabe frowns, “What the hell is that?”

“You are so  _ old _ .” She groans, rolling off the cart and walking back to the register as the bell above the door rings.

“I’m not that old.” Gabe hisses.

He pushes the cart to the clearance section and sets a red sign above it. He can hear Sombra greeting the customers, answering their questions. The store is almost as quiet as the grocery store. Even with customers milling about. 

Gabe takes a moment to breathe, to forget about blue eyes and a tired smile. He tries not to think about the way Jack kissed him outside the diner and the way he looks, satisfied and sated from orgasm.

He won’t get that chance again.

Fuck, he should have just taken the helmet with him.

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Gabe wakes, like he always does, at one twenty-six am.

He stares at the ceiling for ten minutes, trying to forget blood smeared walls. Trying to erase the sharp snap and boom from his rifle when he pulls the trigger. Trying to forget how the human body jerks and falls upon impact.

Then he sits up, puts his phone in his pocket, and trudges into the kitchen to set to work.

Tonight, he pulls a bag of sugar from the cabinet and sets it beside the stove. He snags a pot from the back burner and sets it under the faucet, filling it a little less than halfway with water.

The movements of the process are instinct mostly. He’s still swimming in the memories, despite the ten minutes of meditation he’s been taught to do after a nightmare.

He pours the sugar in, flicks the burner on and waits for it to boil. Waits for the sugar to melt completely before he sticks a thermometer against the side of the pot.

While he waits for the temp to rise to the perfect degree, he grabs a pan and parchment paper from other cabinets and sets them on the counter. He grabs his scalpel kit from a drawer and lines his tools in a row.

He stares down at the pot. The sugar bubbles and the foam forms. He removes the excess and keeps the crystals from gathering on the sides.

Before long, he’s able to move the process along and get the sugar spread out on the pan.

He spends an hour molding and forming, cutting and tracing deep lines and shedding edges. It’s a cathartic process, one that he’s been using since his discharge. Since his abuela patted his hand and handed him a carved box full of the recipes to every meal she’d ever put on his plate.

The box sits pretty and stagnant on the counter by the fridge, dark wood and the family name scratched under the metal latch.

Gabe returns to the careful lines he’s carving into the wings of the sugar. He uses his thumb to wipe away the curled sugar and a cool, wet paper towel to smooth the edges and clear the piece of any lingering bumps.

The owl is small, like most sugar art is. She sits in the center of the pan, regal and beautiful. Each feather is carved perfectly and her beak curves just right.

Gabe hates it.

He dumps the pan in the sink.

He shoves the empty sugar bag in the trash can and puts on his jacket and gloves, his beanie, his boots and leaves the apartment.

He doesn’t take the bike this time. The wind is brutal and snow hits his face like a punch the second he steps outside. The roads are mostly ice right now and it’ll be a few more hours before the plow rolls through to allow morning traffic.

Snow on the sidewalk crunches under his boots with every step. He shoves his gloved hands further into the pockets of his pajama pants and regrets not putting on his sweats for this trip. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that.

It takes a good eight minutes to walk to the store, ten if it was warmer out and there wasn’t a goddamn snow storm rolling in from the east.

The usual graveyard cashier is there, reading something on her cell phone and leaning against the conveyor belt. She glances up as he clears through the doors.

“He’s not here tonight either.” She lifts an eyebrow, “Even you’re not in here this often.”

“Ran out of sugar.” Gabe shrugs.

He walks to the baking section of the store, grabs two bags of sugar this time. It’s really all he needs this go round. In all actuality, it could have waited until his ride home from work later in the day, but part of him-

Well, part of him hoped Jack would be here.

Stupid.

He takes a steady breath and makes his way to the front of the store, two useless bags of sugar in hand.

He’s handing the cashier the cash when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

No one texts him at three-thirty in the morning. Not even Sombra.

He sets the bags of sugar at the end of the belt and fumbles into his pocket for the phone. 

_ You in the neighborhood? _

Unknown number.

Jack.

Gabe releases a breath and swallows. Should he even answer? Jack didn’t bother contacting him for almost a week. Jack’s been holding his sanity and his helmet hostage for days.

He texts back an affirmative, then takes his change from the girl and makes his way back out into the cold.

The phone buzzes again:  _ my place? _

Gabe is a weak, weak man.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


It’s almost four by the time Gabe raps a hesitant knock on the door of Jack’s apartment. He has snow melting off his jacket and his legs are freezing under the thin layer of his pajama pants. But he can hear the soft footfalls heading for the door and his stomach twists in anticipation as a lock slides and the handle twists.

His first thought is Jack is really,  _ really _ into Christmas because his pants are printed with candy canes and elves. He’s naked from the waist up though. The smattering of white-blonde hair across his chest and down into the elastic of his pants sets Gabe’s blood on fire.

He’s seen Jack naked before obviously, but it feels like  _ years _ , like eons has passed.

Jack gives him a weak smile. The skin under his eyes is darker and his shoulders look heavy, tired.

“I was hoping you’d be close by.” Jack murmurs, waving Gabriel inside.

“I told you I spend most of my time in that store at night.” Gabe wiggles the bag full of sugar at him.

Jack raises an eyebrow, “What do you need sugar for at four in the morning?”

Gabe steps pass him with a self-satisfied air, “I’m a mysterious man, Jack.”

“Sugar isn’t mysterious.” Jack shuts the door, slides the lock back into place.

Gabe takes in the scent of Jack’s place. Coffee from the kitchen, burnt toast, soapy steam from a recent shower. He turns back to face Jack.

Jack is rubbing a hand behind his head, “I meant to text you sooner but-.”

“Busy?” Gabe manages a wry smile, “Not a surprise.”

“No.” Jack puts his hands out frantically, eyes wide, “I’ve never done this before. Uh-one night stands?”

Gabe’s heart winces, “That what it was?” He wonders suddenly if Jack only called him here to return the helmet.

Jack fumbles, “What-no, I mean-.” He lets out a hiss of air, shoves a hand through his hair, “I didn’t know if you wanted to do it again.” He waves a hand between them, then to the helmet sitting on the counter in the kitchen, “You left it and I didn’t know if that was a sign that you wanted to see me again or that you just forgot, but then you took your helmet so I thought-.”

Gabe sets a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “Breathe.”

Jack inhales sharply, then releases it with a shudder. His skin is warm and still damp from a shower, Gabe strokes a thumb over the bone of his shoulder.

Jack’s gaze softens under the touch, “That’s not what is was. You left it here on purpose.”

“Yea.” Gabe nods, swallowing thickly, “Figured we could mutually benefit from quick tumbles in the sheets.”

“So like….-.” Jack’s brow furrows, “Fuck buddies? What year is it?”

Gabe shoves his shoulder with a smile, “Call it what you want. You’ve got a mouth on you and I promised you an  _ actual _ fuck.”

Jack grins, “I can work with that.”

“Good.” Gabe slides his hand up the side of Jack’s neck and grips below his jaw, “You look like you haven’t slept all week.”

Jack’s breathing hitches as Gabe holds his head steady, lips brushing light over his cheek and trailing up to his temple.

“You don’t look like a daisy either, Gabe.” Jack grumbles in his ear.

Gabe grins into Jack’s hairline, pressing their bodies together. Jack hisses as the melted snow and cold leather of Gabe’s jacket hits his skin.

“Did you swim in it?” Jack’s hands slip under the Jacket to help Gabe slide it off.

“Storms coming in.” Gabe drags his mouth up the side of Jack’s neck the second the jacket hits the floor. His hands glide up Jack’s back and that big body shivers from the cool leather of his gloves.

Jack yanks him by the front of his shirt and into a kiss.

It’s just as wonderful, if not more so, than the one outside the diner. It’s not cold and Jack’s lips aren’t as chapped.

Gabe sheds his gloves behind Jack’s back and throws them on the floor, eager to get his hands on warm skin.

Jack’s mouth devours his, tongues tangling and soft, wounded sounds bleeding between them. Like Jack’s been  _ craving _ this. Like he’s been waiting a week to taste Gabe again.

And isn’t that intoxicatingly awesome.

Gabe returns the eagerness, guides Jack down to the sofa. He spreads Jack’s legs, still encased in those ridiculous pants, so he can settle between them. He toes off his boots and kicks them over the arm.

“Really?” Jack mumbles, “My sofa isn’t big enough for this.”

Gabe grins, dropping down to mouth at a nipple and successfully silencing the grumbles. He worships Jack’s chest for a long while, until he can feel Jack poking him through the thin layer of his own pajama pants.

Jack’s hands pull his beanie free and rake through the curls on his head.

Gabe closes his eyes and mouths at Jack’s abdomen. For a man who was in the military, there’s a layer of soft fat around his middle. He noses at it, grinning, knowing full well he’s gone just as soft after a good few years of making sweets at two am.

Jack says his name, soft and deep above him, fingers gliding up and down the back of his neck.

“You going to actually fuck me, Gabe?”

“I’m getting there you impatient ass.” Gabe bites at a roll of fat on Jack’s side, earning him a hiss.

He’s actually glad for the sassy reminder.

The air around them is too soft. Too intimate for mutually beneficial sex. They know next to nothing about each other.

Jack has  _ secrets _ . Gabe has them too.

He doesn’t even know Jack’s last name.

He rolls Jack’s pants down below his ass, leaning back to admire the view with a salacious smirk. Jack sneers at him, arm reaching out for a bag on the coffee table.

Gabe peers inside when it’s handed to him and lets out a bark of laughter at the contents.

He shakes it at Jack, “Eager, are we?”

Jack huffs, “You skimped out on your promise to fuck me to sleep last time.”

Gabe pulls out a condom and tube of lube from the bag and tosses it back onto the table. He sets them right above Jack’s groin, “Well, I fully planned to up until someone-.” He reaches out and thumbs at Jack’s bottom lip, “Put their mouth to work and rendered me useless. I’m not that young you know.”

Jack’s lips form into a grin under Gabe’s fingers, “That good?”

“That good.” Gabe agrees, “Now.” He slicks his fingers with the lube, dropping a hand up under Jack’s balls to find the furled entrance, “I believe I owe you a good night’s rest.”

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


Gabe leaves Jack a little after dawn. He makes a quick cup of coffee with Jack’s pot and pours half a glass of milk into a mug to chill it enough to chug.

Jack is still snoring softly in his bed, spread out on his stomach and back to wearing the ugly pajama pants Gabe  _ thought _ he hid from Jack’s view. You’d think sex that good would cause a man as tired as Jack to forgo the pants, but nope. Soon as they migrated to the bedroom, Jack snatched them from the floor and pulled them up his legs.

Gabe suspects Jack will have a christmas tree in the living room by his next visit.

Which he hopes is sooner rather than later.

He shrugs his jacket on and quietly sneaks out the front door, sending Jack a text that he has work as he takes the elevator down to the bottom floor.

Jack sends him a ‘k’ a few seconds later, no doubt rolling back over to sleep some more.

Good, Gabe thinks, they both needed the rest.

The sun is almost up by the time he gets back to his apartment to change into something that isn’t his pajamas. He sets the new sugar on the counter and cleans the crystalized sugar out of his sink.

When he gets to work an hour or two later, Sombra is unlocking the front doors, dressed head to foot in snow gear.

“We’re not in the mountains, ‘Livia.” Gabe smirks as she holds the door open for him.

“Speak for yourself.” Her voice quivers from the cold and she snaps the door shut as soon as he steps through.

Gabe can feel her eyes on him as he sorts through the new shipment of books stacked behind the counter.

“You look too cheerful. It’s negative degrees outside and you’re  _ smiling _ .” She hisses.

“So.” Gabe shrugs a shoulder, pulling a box cutter from under the register and ripping the first box open.

“Ugh.” She starts shedding her layers, “Did he finally text you?”

Gabe hauls the first stack of books out, “Yea.” He sets them on the counter, grabs a cart, and starts sorting them by section.

Sombra frowns, “Did you get your helmet back?”

Gabe pauses, groans, “No.”

She snorts and starts counting the register, “You keep leaving it there and I’m going to assume you’ll be proposing marriage within the month.”

“I was a little busy.” Gabe snaps.

“Oh I bet.” Sombra sneers over her shoulder, “I just bet.”

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Gabe feels it's appropriate to wait twenty-four hours before wanting Jack again. He leaves work like he normally does, goes to the VA for his evening meetings.

He sits and listens to soldiers, young and old, tell their stories and argue about the generation gap between wars. He nurses a nasty cup of coffee and speculates on whether or not Jack does this too. Does he come down to hover by the door like so many vets do? Or does he pass by the building and crumple the brochure a million times?

Part of him wants to ask. The other part knows these things take time and if Jack hasn’t reached that point yet, it’s not his business.

Except, Gabe thinks, it is now, isn’t it? He inserted himself into Jack’s life. He dragged him out to breakfast and kissed him in the snow and brought him home to ease him into sleep and away from the nightmares.

Because that’s exactly what Gabe needs in return.

A chance to  _ sleep. _ A chance to connect with someone outside this group of arguing men and women. Someone who didn’t look at Gabe and only see a veteran.

Someone who saw him across a fluorescent drenched store and wanted him - just because.

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


Jack does have a christmas tree up the next time Gabe comes by.

It’s tiny and sits in the center of Jack’s coffee table. There are multi-colored lights on it and a few mini-gold and green ornaments hanging from the tiny branches.

It’s the only thing in the room he can see while Jack rips his pants open and swallows him down to the root.

The movements are frantic and desperate, Jack’s hands are rough and restless at Gabe’s hips. It’s sloppier than the first one and Jack’s making desperate, throaty sounds in the back of his throat. Like he wants to drown in Gabe and never come up for air.

It’s two am and Gabe knows why.

The same reason he wakes up angry. Desperate. Cooking away in his kitchen and hoping to melt out the sliver of ice in his heart. The one that he forged in the dirt and sand and on top of buildings while he took out human being after human being for the sake of the greater good.

He looks away from the tree, lights still flickering behind his eyes as he drops a hand to Jack’s head and slows him down.

Jack whines, but Gabe slides his fingers across Jack’s scalp and eases him into a steady, finishing rhythm. The orgasm isn’t spectacular, but it eases the tension Gabe’s been gathering in the last day.

Jack drops his forehead against Gabe’s hipbone and sighs.

“It feels wrong to use sex as an outlet to sleep.” He murmurs, hands gliding up and down the back of Gabe’s calves, “I don’t want this to be a form of therapy.”

Gabe stares down at the top of Jack’s head, “Have you tried group meetings? Private ones?”

“No.” Jack whispers in reply.

“I go to the one downtown.” Gabe offers, treading lightly, “You could join me.”

Jack’s quiet for a moment, but he doesn’t stop the restless petting of his hands, so Gabe takes the silence as a good thing.

A slow breath, then: “Text me the times and I’ll work something out with my boss.”

Gabe pulls him up to his feet, “No shame in getting a little help.”

“I know.” Jack shrugs, eyes staring anywhere but at Gabe, “Not used to needing the help-”

“Always used to helping.” Gabe finishes with a dry laugh, “Yea. Comes with the territory.”

“Sorry for ruining the mood.” Jack waves between them, “I know this is kind of a sex thing and I don’t want to make it weird.”

Gabe zips up his pants, watches Jack take a hesitant step back, “You know, we could always try being friends too.”

Blue eyes dart up, “Really?”

“Yea.” Gabe taps his chin, “But that means we have to actually know shit about each other.”

Jack’s laugh is throaty and sudden, “That it?”

Gabe wrinkles his nose, “We shoulda probably known that stuff  _ before _ we started fucking on your couch, but eh.” He shrugs, “Life’s no fun if you do things in order.”

“True.” Jack chuckles. He steps back into Gabe’s space and swoops down for a kiss.

Gabe sighs under it, tasting himself and Jack. His body tingles pleasantly, sensitive from the orgasm and high on - well - Jack.

“This is the weirdest fuck buddies situation I’ve ever been in.” Gabe admits when Jack steps away with a promise of coffee and refrigerator cinnamon rolls.

“Been in a lot of them?” Jack asks from the depths of the fridge a few moments later.

“Not really.” Gabe admits, leaning against the doorframe, “You?”

“You’re the first.” Jack takes the can out of the fridge, frowns down at the tiny directions stamped on the sides.

Gabe watches him turn the oven on and make the most basic, disgusting cinnamon rolls on the planet. But Gabe can’t find the heart to tell Jack that as he squeezes the plastic container of sugar over the rolls when they’re done. He sets two mugs of coffee on the counter between them and the plate of rolls just shy of the edge.

He’ll wait until later to tell Jack he can bake. And if Gabe has his way, Jack’ll never have to eat this store bought shit again.

He takes a bite out of the offending biscuit, watching Jack smile around his coffee mug.

Gabe downs the rest of his coffee and sighs at the time on the microwave.

“Time to go?” Jack asks softly.

“I’m doing inventory this morning. So yea.” Gabe grumbles, setting his cup in the sink.

Jack leads him through the living room and towards the foyer, the miniature christmas tree casting colored shadows across the walls. 

Gabe spots his spare helmet on the entertainment center under the TV. The dark surface is a disco of greens and reds and golds.

Gabe steals one last sugar-rich kiss from Jack and leaves without it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter can be found [here!](https://coecretsquid.tumblr.com/post/168845926523/illustration-of-a-scene-from-the-second-chapter-of)
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support, comments, kudos. Ya'll keep me going!


	3. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, where to begin? You're all amazing and I am _so glad_ you're all enjoy this fic.
> 
> We have one more chapter after this one. That one will probably be the longest one, this one is relatively short and sweet. (Emphasis on the sweet. Wink wink.)
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

 

**Friends**

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Jack’s face is numb by the time he reaches the entrance of the veterans affairs building downtown. The breezy, snow bitten walk from bus stop to the frosted glass doors was a long one and Jack’s fingers are frozen even with them shoved deep in his pockets.

The hallway is brightly lit beyond the doors, promising warmth and hopefully a steaming cup of coffee. Except, Jack’s boots crunch to a stop on the final platform that will lead him through the doors and into his first group meeting.

He knows that Gabe will be there. He knows that every soldier inside has gone through the same bullshit that he has.

He’s not entirely sure what’s giving him cause to stop. It’s bitch ass cold outside and his jacket feels three layers too thin for a winter evening at ten pm. For all intents and purposes, he should just walk through the door and find a spot to sit. Hell, he doesn't have to even say anything the entire time. Gabe assured him the floor was open or closed, completely up to the person. 

Jack takes a shuddery breath and removes his right hand from the pocket of his jacket. He wraps the mitten-encased appendage around the handle of the door and yanks it open.

Sure enough, warmth wraps around him like a comforting blanket and the door shuts behind him with one last gust of cold wind.

He can hear muted chatter from down the hall and the air smells sweet. Not like floor cleaner sweet, but like, homemade cookies.

He follows the smell down the hall to the only open door. Inside is a group of seven men and women, including Gabriel. They’re all hovering near a table laden with a large coffee pot and two trays of cookies in the shapes of various christmas staples.

Gabe is holding a cup of coffee in one hand and has a half-bitten snowman in the other. He’s talking to a woman with long, dark hair and equally beautiful skin. Her laugh is throaty and her voice is heavily accented as she replies to whatever Gabriel said before. A few of the other men in the room look over from the snack table with barely concealed envy.

Gabe turns his head just a smidge to the side when he catches Jack’s movements and his face breaks into a smile.

The woman pauses in the middle of her sentence and follows Gabriel’s gaze. Her smile is gentle and knowing as her eyes stops on Jack.

Jack steps through the doorway and makes his way over to Gabe and the woman.

“You made it.” Gabe looks so goddamn proud of him. It’s the only explanation for the wide smile on his face. Jack feels pretty proud of himself too.

Jack nods and puts a hand out for the woman, “Jack.”

She grins, setting her hand in his and giving him a firm shake, “Fareeha. Gabriel’s told me quite a bit about you.”

Jack lifts an eyebrow and glances at Gabriel, who is scowling at her, “Is that so?”

“I mean, it’s not every day you make a new friend in the dairy aisle at three am.” She laughs again, “I wish I met all my friends that way.”

Jack grins, “I highly recommend it.” 

Her laughter trails off with a happy huff, “Well, I highly recommend you go over there and try Gabriel’s fabulous sugar cookies.”

Now both of his eyebrows rise up as he glances at Gabe, “You made the cookies?”

Gabe gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, “I gotta do something at one o’clock in the morning.”

“Suddenly those three am grocery trips are making more sense.” Jack teases.

“Everyone grab a cookie and a seat, we’re fixing to get started.” A greying man in a baseball cap calls from the circle of chairs in the center of the room.

The gathered men and women reply in murmurs. Jack walks over to the snack table and pours himself a cup of coffee in one of the styrofoam cups. He grabs two cookies, a christmas tree and a candy cane, both iced in vibrant colors. 

Gabe leaves a seat open for him and Fareeha takes the right side of another fellow woman soldier. 

The session isn’t as rowdy as Jack is expecting. There’s no shouting or barking or disagreement outside of a few political headbutts. He doesn’t speak much, but Gabe does.

“Our unit was east of a hot zone. It’d been a while since I needed to keep a unit in line,” Gabe begins, sinking back into the hard line of the chair, “One of the newer guys broke formation because he didn’t agree with my orders.” His thumb rolls over the edge of the cup he’s holding, smearing the lingering stain of coffee around the rim, “Two seconds out of the line and he’s gone. Shot to the head. Blood all over the rest of us.” He lets loose a sigh, “That’s the kind of shit that keeps you up at night.”

Another soldier nods, “Yea. Honestly, I never have second thoughts about the orders I was given. I mean, that’s the job right?” He waves a hand, “It’s the friends we lose along the way. Watching them go down is the last thing I think about before I try to sleep.”

A round of murmured agreement ripples through the group.

“It’s good to hold on to the memories of you brothers and sisters.” The group leader leans forward, “But  _ only _ holding on to the end of their memory isn’t going to help you heal. Fact remains that you still gotta live with it. You need to decide if they would want you to spend hours replaying their deaths in your head.”

Jack drops his eyes to the ground.

“I mean, what’s wrong with it?” A woman snaps, “If we don’t remember them, who the hell will?”

“Is replaying that memory going to bring them back?” Jack doesn't mean to butt in, but he does, voice cutting sharp and thick in the silence.

“Well, no - but -.” She flounders.

“My dad was a preacher when I was really young.” Jack taps the side of his cup, “And he always had this saying he’d use during his funeral services to help the families who took sudden deaths hard.” God, why is talking about his father of all things, “He’d put his hands on their shoulders and tell them that it was okay to miss the dead. It was okay to mourn them, but at some point  _ we _ have to move on. There will always be a hole to fill, but that’s part of being alive. It’s up to those of us still living, to miss those who aren’t.” He takes a steadying breath, “Point is, we can miss them without torturing ourselves about how they died.”

“Excellent point, Jack.” The leader agrees with a finger in his direction, “Anyone else want the floor before we close out?”

A few more speak up, but it’s mostly lingering agreement with Jack’s statement.

Before long, everyone is grabbing their last cup of coffee for the night and saying their goodbyes.

His watch reads twelve fifty-two and Gabe lingered in the room with Fareeha and the group leader to talk. Jack debates grabbing a burger from a 24 hour drive through before heading back to his apartment for the night.

Ana had given him the whole evening off, despite his protests that he could still go in for a few hours afterwards. She insisted this was more important and required his full attention, not him rushing off to work as soon as the meeting was adjourned.

_ Make some friends. Clear your head out while you’re there. You need this. _

Jack stares out at the snow covered sidewalks and roads. It’ll be another chilly walk to the bus stop and an equally chilly one to get a burger. He should just call it a wash and go home to make a bowl of soup.

A hand cups his elbow and startles him out of his thoughts.

“You hungry?” Gabe asks, stepping up beside him.

Jack sags in relief, “Yea. Famished. Was too nervous to eat before this.”

“Same thing happened to me my first time.” Gabe admits and then he’s putting on his leather gloves, a ziplock bag full of cookies under his arm as he does so.

“You take the bike?” Jack asks.

“Nah.” Gabe shakes his head, “Borrowed a friends car.” He points to a dark sedan under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights.

Jack almost groans out loud at the prospect of not having to take the midnight cold bus home.

Gabe laughs at the face he makes and pushes the door open, waving Jack to follow him. Jack does so, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he trails behind Gabe the entire way to the car.

Gabe pops the locks and the lights blink twice.

Jack slips into the passenger seat as Gabe starts her up and sets the heater on blast.

The ride to the dinner is mostly Jack explaining the downfalls of working at a bar during the winter.

“Tips are shitty.” He grumbles.

“Traffic slow down during the winter?” Gabe asks, making a careful turn at a green light.

“Excruciatingly slow. I’m popular with the women though and they tip relatively higher in the winter months, not so much with the male customers. Jesse excels with both.” 

“Bartending is a young person’s game.” Gabe sends him a look, “Why you still working there?”

Jack purses his lips and doesn't reply. He’s not sure it’s a good idea to tell Gabe the real reason why he works at a bar. Or why he hasn’t gone to any therapy sessions or gotten help for his insomnia. That he gets off on picking out the nastier people that come to the bar and taking them out back to teach them a lesson.

That he has to follow women to their cars to keep them safe and has to break up back alley fights because humans have zero impulse control.

But, fuck, he wants to be friends with Gabe. He wants the sex and that painfully comfortable feeling that tightens his chest when Gabe looks at him. He wants to tell him everything.

He just isn’t sure he’s ready to -

“Don’t have to tell me.” Gabe mutters.

“It’s not that.” Jack shakes his head, “I just - I enjoy the job, sure, but part of me is still running from foxhole to foxholes, itching for a fight.”

He can feel the look Gabriel gives him, “You like fighting with boys who don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground?”

“It still gives me that rush.” Jack swallows, presses his fist to his chin, “When they swing first or they swing at someone else, I’m there to wade into the mess and set everyone straight.” He closes his eyes now.

“The bloody knuckles from that first night.” Gabe murmurs.

“Yea.” Jack affirms, “Some punk who snapped at Ana and called her a hag and broke one of her mugs because we cut him off.” He flexes his left hand, “She can take care of herself, but I was looking for an excuse to fight. I hadn’t slept in two days and I needed -.” A deep inhale, “I needed the high.”

“You gotta get out of that hole, Jack.” Gabe says, “You can’t keep beating people up because you need to get your rocks off. You need to find a new outlet.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” Jack knocks his head back against the headrest.

“Join a boxing gym for fucks sake. Go beat up a sandbag and go a few rounds with people who know how to fight back.”

Jack hadn’t thought of that, “That’s a - good idea.”

“Happy to help.” Gabe chuckles, “I want to know more about you, Jack. I’m glad you let me in.”

Jack smiles over at him, “Yea, me too.” 

The car makes another turn and he spots the familiar outline of the diner Gabe took him to a few weeks ago. Gabe pulls into a vacant spot and oddly enough, the parking lot is fuller than it was the last time they were here.

“Busy night.” Jack notes as they make their way to the front doors.

“It’s a friday.” Gabe notes, “Kids have been out drinking and now they’re sobering up here.”

“Who parties in this kind of weather?” Jack grumbles, pushing through the door.

Gabe lets out a snort behind him, “You’re such an old man, Jack.”

“Welcome back you two.” Lucio calls from the register, “There’s a table in back over there,” He wiggles a finger to the left, “But one of the seats isn’t attached to the wall.”

“I’m sure Jack doesn't mind getting cozy in a seat with me.” Gabe grins, strolling through the bustling diner.

Sure enough, the only open booth has a seat that isn’t bolted to the wall all the way. So Jack slips into the working one and Gabe follows.

It’s a tight fit and their sides mold together from shoulder to ankle. They’re both just a smidge too big to be sharing a booth seat, but Jack’s starving and Gabriel’s warm, so he doesn’t mind i the slightest.

A girl dressed in pink leggings speeds over to their table with a wide smile, “Long time no see, Gabby.”

Gabe grunts, “Hana. You haven’t been here the last couple of times I came. Think that’s your fault.”

She wave a hand dramatically, “Oh the woes of having two jobs.”

Gabe elbows Jack and jerks a thumb at her, “Teenagers.”

She smirks, “Not all of us have military pensions you grouch.” She sets a pen to her order pad, “The usual?”

“Yep. For the both of us.” Gabe affirms.

“Gotcha. Also, Rein made some holiday cobbler if you two are interested.” She grins, “It’ll go fast so I’m offering to put you some to the side.”

“Please and thank you, ma’am.” Jack smiles at her.

Hana sighs dreamily at him, “Oh Gabe, he’s so polite.” 

“It’s that farmboy charm.” Gabe pokes her arm, “Shoo. He’s mine.”

She swats his hand, “I’m not into old men, grandpa.” Another table calls for her and she moves with practiced eased down line.

It takes a bit longer than last time to get their food, but it isn’t too long they’re both digging into their meals. Jack can feel Gabe’s body shifting beside him as they eat, chatting in between bites and sips of coffee.

Hana sets a heaping plate of cobbler between the two of them and refills their coffee as Jack’s wristwatch nears two am. It melts in his mouth and is gloriously sweet and tart at the same time. He requests a glass of milk halfway through and Gabe mirrors the request.

Jack spots a stain of berry in the corner of Gabe’s mouth and his stomach growls for another reason as he imagines licking it clean.

Gabe licks his spoon and lifts an eyebrow, “Pretty intense look you’re giving me, Jack.”

Jack thinks ‘fuck it’ and cups the side of Gabe’s face so he can lean in and kiss away the stain. Gabe’s breathing hitches as his lips cover the spot, tongue darting out to do its job. He follows the motion by guiding Gabe’s chin to the side, making it that much easier to form their mouths together in a kiss that’s sweet from the cobbler and the milk and the moment.

One of Gabe’s hands curls around Jack’s back, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket and using it to pull them closer together. Gabe smells like ice and bacon and a rich, fragrant cologne that is giving Jack a contact high. He mumbles into the kiss, sliding his hand around and tucking fingers under the beanie.

Gabe parts for a moment, leaving just enough space to speak, “Come home with me, Jack.” The request is breathy, “I’m one hundred percent on board with doing the friends thing, but -.”

Jack kisses him again.

It’s the easiest way to say yes.

They pay for their meal and Jack presses an extra tip into Hana’s hand when Gabe isn’t looking and wishes her a good night. 

Jack’s blood is on fire and his mouth is still tingling from the kiss in the diner even as Gabe drives carefully towards his home. Gabe’s grip is tight on the steering wheel and his face is set into a determined frown. He looks gorgeous in the dull street lights they pass.

His apartment complex is smaller than Jack’s. It only takes them a few minutes and three flights of stairs to get to the front door and even less so for Gabe to unlock it and shove Jack inside.

There are no lights on and Gabe doesn’t waste time to turn one on before he’s grabbing Jack by the front of his jacket. The kiss is desperate and needy. It’s been about a week since they shared nervous smiles and decided to try out a friendship first. Not that Jack didn’t expect they’d fall back into bed together, in fact, he frequently hoped they would.

He can be Gabe’s friend and still want to lay him out and fuck him stupid.

Gabe pushes him further into the apartment, the kiss turning wet and messy. Jack groans into it, hands scrambling to shed both of their coats. He’s hard in his jeans and wanting nothing more than Gabe’s hand down the front of his pants when the back of his ankles hit something hard.

He gasps into Gabe’s mouth, stumbling over the object and hitting a wall.

“Oh. Shit.” Gabe’s mouth finds residence on Jack’s neck, nibbling and sucking at the skin connecting it to his shoulder.

Jack’s hands slap against the wall, still reeling from the sudden tumble.

“Sorry.” Gabe bites into Jack’s neck, “Forgot to move the old sewing machine to the garbage pile.”

Jack’s brain isn’t firing on all cylinders and Gabe’s mouth is  _ extraordinarily distracting,  _ but he’s not crazy. He did hear -

“Sewing machine?” Gabe catches his mouth again and sucks on his tongue and sends the rest of Jack’s blood south for the winter.

“Later.” Gabe snarls, fingers fumbling with the button on Jack’s jeans, “I need you to fuck me.”

Jack shivers and reaches down to assist with the shedding of his pants. He toes off his shoes and kicks out of his pants, all while Gabe drags him through the dark apartment by the front of his shirt.

Gabe shoves him onto the bed and Jack can’t see a goddamn thing, but Gabe obviously doesn’t have that same problem.

He wraps his hand around Jack’s cock and his hand is already slick with lube.

“Oh fuck.” Jack’s hips jerk into the hand, “Gabe-.”

“I’m going to ride you until you pass out, Jack.” Gabe’s hips settle on Jack’s thighs and he’s already gloriously naked, “Then I’m going to make you  _ real  _ cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”

Jack feels Gabe line his cock with the already stretched opening of his ass. Like Gabe had _hoped_ for this and had prepared for it.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Jack wraps his hands around Gabe’s hips, “Do your worst.”

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


Jack isn’t sure when Gabriel crawls out of bed, but he does know that it’s a sudden, jarring motion. He’s drowsy and half-asleep, but he recognizes the sudden wakefulness from a nightmare and struggles to form a sentence. He wants to help, to ease the stress he knows bleeds from his own body when he wakes in terror-filled memories.

“Do you need-.”

“Shhhh.” A hand rubs through his hair and down the back of his neck, “I’m good,  _ mi cielo _ .” It pauses at his spine, “Go back to sleep.”

Jack mumbles incoherently and the bed shifts as Gabe’s weight lifts from it. The hand drags down the length of his bare back and the smooth slide of a blanket replaces the tingle across his skin. He sinks back into the pillows and lets sleep drag him back under.

When he wakes again, it’s to the sweet smell of icing and cinnamon. He pushes up to his elbows, blanket slipping down to his ass, and turns his head to the empty side of the bed.

Gabe’s obviously been up for hours and the clock on his table says it’s well past seven am.

Jack gets out of the bed and searches for his boxers, finding them half in the doorway of bathroom connected to Gabe’s room. He slips them up his legs, elastic snapping against his hips and goes in search of his host.

Gabe’s apartment is only a hair bigger than Jack’s, but significantly homier. There are hand-quilted blankets on a plush maroon sofa, varying tastes in artwork hung on the living room walls, all cedar end tables.

The kitchen opens into the living room with a half bar and at the edge of the bar is a tower of puffy brown doughnut holes.

Jack squints, or cream puffs.

“Did you make all of this in the last few hours?” 

Gabe peeks around the edge of the leaning tower of sweet, dough balls. A grin ticks at the corner of his mouth and the curls atop his head are still a mess from sleeping with Jack earlier. He looks a gorgeous sight this early in the morning and Jack has a staggering thought of ‘ _ What if it was like this every morning? _ ’

Isn’t he tired of waking up alone? Wasn’t he just wasting away in his bedroom, trying to numb the pain and chase away the demons with lack of sleep and booze?

Shit, he may never get better, but this right here - Gabe’s chest and cheeks streaked with flour and a sink full of baking dishes and a stack of cream puffs as big as his torso, is exactly where Jack needs to be. Where he wants to be.

“Coffee is still hot and the buns are warm in the oven.” Gabe jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

Jack doesn’t hesitate. He pours himself steaming mug full of the blackest, strongest smelling coffee and snatches a sticky bun from the depths of a toasty oven. He settles against the counter at Gabe’s side, biting into the most delicious tasting cinnamon roll of his life and watching Gabe carefully add another cream puff to the tower.

“What is this called?” He waves the roll at the gorgeous masterpiece. 

Gabe’s tongue is sticking out as he checks to make sure the puff he added won’t fall. He gives it a peer from all angles and nods when he’s satisfied. 

“Croque en bouche.” Gabe pronounces flawlessly. 

Jack just lifts an eyebrow and takes another bite from his cinnamon roll.

Gabe’s face falls a bit in feigned disappointment and he waves a hand at it, “It’s a tower of cream puffs, Jack.”

“Figured as much.” Jack holds out the last bit of his bun for Gabe. 

Gabe opens his mouth for it; tongue darting out to lick the remaining icing from Jack’s fingers. Jack couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face even if he tried.

“I bake when I can’t sleep.” Gabe pulls a bag of powdered sugar from a cabinet and a sifter from a drawer, “Been doing it since I got back.”

“Does it help?” Jack asks softly, watching as Gabe lifts his arms over the puffs and starts sprinkling the white power like snow across the tops.

“Some nights.” Gabe pauses, “Not all of them.” He does the right side, “My abuela left me her box of recipes when she died and I’ve been….” He pauses, switches sides, “Trying to replicate them when I need to focus on something other than the fucked up shit I did overseas.”

“I’ve been using vodka.” Jack admits, “Your way is healthier.”

Gabe barks out a sudden laugh and drops the sifter and sugar to the countertop, “What’s worse, diabetes or alcoholism?” 

“How about this -.” Jack steps between Gabe and the tower of sugar and puffs. He cups Gabe’s elbows with his hands and guides those strong arms around his waist, “I’ll drop the booze. I’ll pour out every bottle I own.” Gabe’s palms slide up his back and hook over his shoulders, Jack drapes his arms around Gabe’s waist, “And instead of grocery stores at two am and drinking myself blind to fall asleep after work, I just come here and watch you bake and drink your frankly outstanding coffee and -.”

“Yes.” Gabe cuts in, “Yes. I’d-.” He clears his throat and steps closer to Jack, naked chests brushing, “I’d like that.”

“I want to be your friend Gabe.” Jack lowers his voice, drops his forehead against Gabe’s, “But more than that, I want to heal with you. I want to find new ways to deal with the chaos in my head and I want - _ fuck _ -.” He drags Gabe against him, “I just want you.”

“Then have me.” Gabe whispers, “I’m right here.”

Jack smiles and savors the warm, shuddery feeling clouding his chest.

In the early morning, in a kitchen filled with dirty dishes and fresh coffee and the smell of icing and cinnamon, Jack is pretty sure he finally asked Gabe to go out with him. After weeks of pining and watching Gabe under the harsh grocery store fluorescent lights in the middle of the night.

And he’s pretty sure Gabe said yes.

Jack opens one eye and Gabe is staring up at him with a smile he’s going to be daydreaming about for days, “So.” He tilts his head back a bit and glances around the living room until he spots the device he tripped over a few hours prior, “You sew?”

Gabe lets out a wheeze of a sigh, “Yes, Jack. I sew.”

“You are a living, breathing QVC housewife.” Jack snickers.

“Oh shut up.” Gabe pinches his shoulder, “Or I won’t make you a  _ real  _ biking jacket to match that helmet you’ve been decorating your apartment with.”

Jack grins, “Promise?”

Gabe mirrors the grin, “Promise.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your continued support, comments, and kudos. Ya'll keep me going!


	4. Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for taking this self-indulgent ride with me.
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Lovers**

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

It starts small like most things in life do.

Gabe comes home from work and heads to the shower. He strips near the laundry basket and spots a pair of bright blue boxers. They’re not his own, they’re Jack’s. He makes a mental note to toss the whole basket in the washing machine downstairs before he crawls into bed.

The shower is nice after the long, cold bus ride home. Even with gloves on his fingers still get chilly and his pants don’t block out the wind the way his jacket does.

It isn’t until he dries himself off and tosses the towel over the bar to dry that he pauses in his steps. Naked, skin steaming from the shower and feet cold against the tile floor, he stares at the cup next to the hot water knob of the sink.

There are two toothbrushes in it. One is obviously his own and the other one - is Jack’s.

It shouldn’t be a strange sight, hell, Jack spends every evening he’s not working at Gabe’s place. Of course he’d need a toothbrush. But it’s not  _ just  _ the toothbrush.

He grabs a pair of boxers and pulls on some sweats. The laundry basket taunts him from the hall, so he picks that up and fulfills his promise to wash them all downstairs. 

So not just the toothbrush. But the boxers, the movies snuck into his own collection, a quilted throw Jack’s mother sent him for christmas. Small things, trivial things, mixed in with Gabe’s own daily items.

He knows the fridge has that horrible pomegranate juice right beside his milk, because Jack likes sweet things when he watches TV. There’s a plate of M & M cookies on his table, because Jack made a pouty face and begged Gabe to make a normal dessert just once.

There are only three left, the plastic wrap is half undone, so that means Jack grabbed a handful of them before he went in for his shift this evening.

Small changes. Miniscule shifts in his daily life.

It’s enough to give him pause.

He stands in his tiny apartment kitchen and thinks about the short time they’ve known one another. From that horrible fluorescent lighting in the grocery store to the muted snowy kiss outside the diner to having Jack a begging, gorgeous mess under him. Then him sitting amongst men and women just like them, a cup of coffee between his hands and the look of a man who was saved seconds from drowning.

Barely a month between them, two holidays past and a new year just breaking through, and Gabe can say with almost certainty that he’s fallen in love. Maybe not with everything Jack has to offer, not yet. But with the tired way he smiles and the gaudy holiday themed clothing and the way he sighs Gabe’s name when they’re kissing. There’s so much potential in Jack’s entire being that Gabe would want for nothing else his entire life.

Of course, then there’s the miles and miles of uncharted territory left to navigate. The nightmares. The anxiety attacks. The staggered schedules they both keep. He doesn't know what Jack is like when he’s angry. Or scared. Or sad.

Isn’t that the point though? To find out?

Those promised words in Jack’s gravel voice in the early morning, arms wrapped around his waist and the taste of icing on his tongue. 

_ I want to heal with you. I want you. _

Gabe takes a shaky inhale, leans into the counter with his hands and closes his eyes. He can do this. He can make this easy choice and allow Jack further into his life. He’s already halfway there. Hell, it’s probably too far gone to turn back.

He pushes away from the counter and reaches for his abuela’s recipe box. It slides across the granite top easily, popping open under his fingertips. It’s full to bursting with different colored paper, some wrapped in plastic, others faded and written only in spanish. His fingertips glide over the edges and they jolt back into place after he’s passed. Emotion lodges in his throat as he pauses at one near the back of the box, bright blue and decorated with twisting vines. He hesitates to pluck it from its place, never felt he was worthy to even look at it. In truth, he  _ hasn’t _ looked at it.

He grips it between his thumb and forefinger and pulls it up just enough to see his abuela’s handing writing in lovely, thin scrawl. 

_ Maria’s Sopapilla Pie _

He can  _ taste _ it.

Twelve years old and sitting eagerly at the dinner table. His plate cleared from a fabulous meal and his yayo across from him, grinning from ear to ear and promising him the best dessert he’ll ever have in his life. Abuela sets a new plate in front of him. It’s not the most beautiful dessert. It’s a pale pie, creamy, dusted with brown sugar crystals and crusted with a tanned dough. He digs in. It tastes divine. It’s sweet and cool on his tongue, cinnamon and honey and brown sugar all mixed in perfect harmony over a homemade crust.

_ Yaya, this is amazing! You’ll have to teach me how to make it. _

Her laughter is beautiful, even as a memory,  _ Maybe when you’re older, mijo.  _

_ Is it a secret? _

_ When you’re ready for it. I’ll tell you. Promise. _

Gabe slips it back into place, closes the lid of the box.

She never told him.

Gabe hadn’t even thought of it or cared enough about it as she was dying. So focused on not losing the only thing he had left when he returned. 

Bringing hell in the wake of his return and the cool, wonderful presence of her when he came home only to have it yanked out from under his feet.

He pushes the box back and leaves the kitchen, flipping the light off on his way out. The clock on his bedside table reads just after eight. Jack won’t be by until well after two and now’s as good a time as any to crawl into bed and try to get some semblance of sleep.

The bed groans under his weight and he checks his phone once before dropping it on the table. He rolls over onto his side, staring at the one lone window in the bedroom. No curtains, just frosted glass and snowflakes drifting. It’ll be a chilly walk home for Jack.

Maybe he should set his alarm and pick him up? 

He burrows into the pillow and can smell Jack’s heady, sharp cologne. It lingers, mixed with the scent of the detergent he uses on the sheets. He buries his nose in the cloth, inhaling and allowing the smell to ease through his senses. It relaxes him. Slowly, each part of his body sinking further into the mattress.

He’s asleep in seconds.

He wakes with gunfire ringing in his ears and the desert sun scorching his flesh. His lower back flares with pain, making him bow forward and gasp, eyes flying open and fingers ripping at the comforter. He reaches behind himself with one hand, feeling for blood, for the wound he knows is from a bullet.

He only finds the scar.

The shower is running, pipes rattling and wet footsteps sliding along the tub. He can smell scrambled eggs and hear the TV on low.

He’s in his bedroom.

Jack is home from work.

The clock reads 2:45.

His heart is still pounding a mile a minute, so he doesn’t move. Just listens to the sound of another person in his home and focuses on that. Not the memory. Not the lingering phantom pain near his spine.

After a few loaded minutes, he sits up and walks to the kitchen. He pulls the recipe box towards the stove and yanks the blue pie card out and slaps it on the counter. It takes him a good while to gather all the ingredients needed for it, but soon he has it all laid on in an assembly line on the counter. 

He can hear the shower shut off and the sink turn on. He continues through the motions, reads every direction carefully. Follows every single one to the T.

There’s a craving deep in his belly for this pie. He wants that memory back. That feeling.

He vaguely hears Jack come into the kitchen. The only reason he knows is because Jack mouths a warm, quick kiss on his shoulder before migrating in the direction of the sink. Most likely to clean the pan he cooked his eggs in. 

Gabe stays focused, completes every step until it’s poured over the dough and set to bake.

“You back?”

He startles, staring down at the oven door as Jack’s voice pierces whatever veil he’s had up for the last hour or so.

When he turns, Jack is seated at the table, half eaten cookie in one hand and a mug of milk at his elbow. His hair is dry from the shower, but he didn’t bother doing anything with it after he abused it with the towel, so the greying blonde locks are pointing every which way. He’s not wearing a shirt, his pants are a violent shade of green, feet bare. He looks every inch at home in Gabe’s kitchen and it twists something pleasant in his gut.

“Did I zone out?”

“Pretty much.” Jack takes a bite of the cookie, “I’m just here to watch.”

Gabe glances back the oven, the timer telling him he still have thirty minutes to go. He plops down across from Jack, who pushes the plate with the last cookie and his mug across the table at him.

He takes both gratefully, eating the cookie in three bites and chugging the milk.

“You weren’t near as intense with the leaning tower of puffs.” Jack points out, “Did something happen?”

Gabe sighs, “Bad dream.”

Jack nods once, cups his chin with his hand. He’s treading water. Waiting for Gabe to decide if he wants to tell the story or leave it be.

“I got shot in the back.” Gabe clears his throat, hand unconsciously moving to the scar, “Almost clipped my spine, but I was just far enough to the left that it didn’t. Spent forever in a hospital overseas, but it wasn’t enough to release me.”

Jack’s eyes narrow, “You went back into a warzone after an injury that serious?” He scoffs, “And they called me stubborn.”

Gabe snorts, shaking his head, “I wasn’t dead, so I was still useful.” 

He watches Jack glance over at the recipe box, “How long did it take you to find something so….menial to battle down that storm?”

“Takes a lot of therapy sessions and talking to other vets.” He mutters, “I came home and she was there to help me, but then it was all gone and I was alone. It was either drown myself in booze and self-pity or take some semblance of control over the mental crap we carry home.”

A soft laugh, “You’ve done good.”

“And you’re going to get there too, Jack.” Gabe looks over at him, blue eyes rounded black from lack of sleep and body drooping, “But now, let’s get you into bed.”

Jack grins, “Are we doing this the usual way or are you just going to tuck me in and come back to your cake?”

“Pie.” Gabe corrects, standing up and pulling Jack out of his seat with his hand, “And I’m tucking you in. If you’re really good and sleep, then I’ll reward you later.” He molds their matching smiles together with a kiss and backs Jack all the way down the hall, tongues tangling and hands roaming. Jack’s legs hitting the bed separates them for a moment, but Gabe leans forward and sinks into one more, “Once I put it in the fridge to cool, I’ll join you.”

Jack nods and pulls the covers over his shoulders.

He shuts the door to the room just enough so the light from the kitchen won’t keep Jack up. The oven timer goes off as he rounds back into the kitchen and he takes the pie out, sets it on the stove.

He sprinkles a little of the sugar mixture over the top and cuts just enough of a slice to taste the outcome. While it cools, he washes the dishes and dries them and puts them away.

A spoon is his chosen weapon for the tasting and he dips it into the slice, watches it part and stick to the silver surface. He brings it to his mouth and sets it on his tongue.

It doesn’t taste right. It tastes  _ too sweet, too wrong, too everything. _

He dumps the rest of the pie in the trash.

  
  
  


 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


 

 

Jack doesn’t say anything about the lack of pie in the refrigerator the next morning. When Gabe observes him over the rim of his coffee mug, Jack is bent over, eyebrows lowered and teeth worrying his bottom lip. His hands curl around the pomegranate juice and he doesn’t say a word.

Part of Gabriel wants him to ask. The other part is impressed in Jack’s ability to let things roll off to deal with later. At least the group sessions are helping.

“Did you take the night off for this weeks meeting?”

Jack still looks half dead from the constant tossing and turning his did most of the morning, but he grunts, “Just a few hours. I gotta go in right after. Hanzo’s brother is in from Nepal and he needed to call in.”

“I’ll have that car again if you need a ride there after.”

Jack chuckles, “I’d appreciate that.”

Gabe grins, gliding along the counter until he’s right beside Jack, “How much appreciation are we talking?”

Jack caps the lid of his juice and sends him a sly look, “You asking me to pay for a ride with  _ sex _ , Gabriel?”

“That is exactly what I’m proposing.” Gabe sets his mug on the counter with an uneven clunk and leans a bit further into Jack’s space. He smells like their sheets, a little bit of the cologne Gabe used after his shower for work, and warm, male skin. His stomach curls pleasantly and Jack’s eyes are knowing and bright.

The kiss tastes horrible. Gabe’s coffee and the sweet, tart tang of Jack’s juice makes for an unpleasant cocktail on their tongues, but Jack’s hands are warm and weighty as he cups his neck. 

Need makes his head swim, but Jack breaks from the kiss and nips gently at his bottom lip as he whispers, “You don’t have time. Olivia will get mad if you’re not there to open the store.”

Gabe grumbles, but relents. He snags another kiss and empties the rest of his coffee into the sink.

While he gathers up his jacket and gloves, Jack wanders into the living room, cup of juice in hand and looking fully prepared to sit on the couch till evening.

“Need anything while I’m out?” Gabe hesitates at the door. Jack is on the couch now, two quilted blankets wrapped around his half-naked body. He looks so at home. Maybe he’ll get some more sleep.

“I’m gonna run to my place in a little while.” Jack sinks deeper into the couch, “Got a couple of things I want to bring over for the weekend.”

More things to add to Gabe’s home.

It’s not near as scary a thought in the daytime. He grins, “See you at the meeting then?”

“Yep.” Jack nods, “Drive safe. Roads were coated in ice by the time I got in last night.”

“Will do.” He shuts the door behind him, doesn’t bother locking it.

It’s cold outside and Jack wasn’t kidding about the icy roads. At least there isn’t any snow falling and the wind is only mildly making his face hurt. He tugs his beanie as tight over his ears as he can and heads for the parking garage of the complex. His bike is covered in her normal spot and he bemoans the loss of her during the winter months. He’ll be glad when the snow is gone and he can take Jack out for a proper ride.

For now, he enjoys the sweet, sweet heated interior of a borrowed car and heads to work.

Sombra is already there when he arrives, ripping open new orders and organizing them for pick-up customers behind the counter. She spots him as he walks in and a frown mars her pretty features.

“You don’t look like you got any sleep.” She pauses in her shelving process, “Grocery boy not doing it for you anymore?”

He sends her a scowl, “ _ Jack _ does it just fine for me. Sex isn’t a cure all for sleep. Works the first few times, but PTSD has a sadistic routine. It keeps coming back.”

She abandons her job as he sheds his jacket and sets to pening the register, “Are you going to meetings together?”

“Yea.” He affirms, “He’s still antsy when he sleeps, but having an outlet among peers does wonders for your psych.” 

“I hear that.” She nods, tapping her long, purple nails against the counter, “I mean, you look like total shit, which means you had a bad night, but other than that, you look healthier.” 

He smirks down at her, “Didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.” She sniffs, twisting away from the counter and back to her original duty, “Just an observation.”

He laughs, walking around the counter to flip the sign to open, “Thanks for observing, Ollie.”

She shrugs one shoulder.

  
  
  


 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


 

 

He gives Jack a ride to work after the meeting. Jack looks far too tired to be going anywhere, but he thanks Gabe with a kiss and a promise of following up on his ‘appreciation’ and heads in the direction of the neon lights. The bar is nicer than most dives, with a little alley on the right side and a meger line of customers outside smoking. Jack gives him another wave when he makes it to the bouncer, who lets him in another door.

Gabe ends up at the grocery store instead of going home right away. He isn’t sure why, but the harsh lights greet him like an old friend. There’s a new girl at the register and she welcomes him with just as much cheer as the last one.

He gets a basket and walks the aisles. This is his usual routine. Go to the store, replenish his supply, go home, sleep, wake up, bake to cope with the nightmares. Except he didn’t bring a recipe card this time, so he’s staring at the baking aisle and wondering if he should just go home. 

Instead, he starts gathering ingredients for the very recipe he threw in the garbage early this morning. He buys more flour for the dough and cream and sugar. His fingers trail across the many spices he could add to the sugar mixture on top.

Abuela was the only one who knew the secret ingredient to that pie. Why he couldn’t replicate it even after following her instructions to the letter, was because she took that very secret to the grave. And now he’s lost and struggling for some semblance of his childhood, of home, while he wades through the muddled emotions dragged back from war.

He wants to  _ share _ that feeling with Jack.

He wants Jack to bite into that pie and have that same awe on his face that Gabe did the first time he tried it. To feel that beautiful, blossoming emotion from eating something made by someone that you -

His hands hold the heavy cream and the lights are blinding above him. He looks over to his left and half expects Jack to be there, clutching a cheap box of oatmeal and looking at him like he’s the the only human being in the world.

He can get that at home now.

Jack is going to be  _ home _ in a few hours.

Gabe drops the cream into his basket and heads for the front of the store.

  
  


 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


 

His phone goes off at three forty six am. He wakes up with a start, confused at the harsh vibrating sound on the wood of his table. The light from the streetlamp outside makes the room look too blue, too dark, but he can still see his bright phone screen. He reaches for it, squinting at the ‘Amari’ flashing on the screen.

Ice jolts through his veins and he rolls over fast, vision focusing on the empty space on the other side of the bed.

He fumbles with the phone, sliding the green icon across the screen, “Reyes.”

“Oh good.” Fareeha’s voice sounds so relieved, “I really didn’t want to have to take him down to the station.”

Him.

_ Jack _ .

Gabe’s eyes closed, “What happened?”

“Small altercation.” Fareeha clears her throat, “At his job. Might want to come get him though, he’s not in any trouble, but it’s four am and my mom called in a favor and I’m tired, Gabe.”

He’s already yanking on a pair of jeans and trying to find his boots, “Got it. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

He makes it in ten.

There are three police cars in front of the bar, revolving red and blue lights glinting off snow. A handful of officers are gathered around the entrance of the alley, some holding flashlights, others marching kids away in handcuffs.

He parks behind Fareeha’s cruiser and steps out into the below freezing weather. One of the cops waves to him, shouts out ‘Amari’. She steps from the depths of the alley, hair tied back in a neat bun and wearing a half-smile.

“Why are you smiling?” Gabe hisses.

She waves a hand at the kids being shoved head first into cruisers. Two of them have bloody noses, one a nasty growing bruise on his arm.

Gabe closes his eyes, “He didn’t.”

“I’m not saying it’s  _ right _ .” She lowers her voice, “But Gabe, they had guns.” She sets a hand on his elbow, “Those kids look bad, but that was restraint. They’re lucky Jack didn’t kill them.” She nudges him into the alley.

Jack is sitting on an upturned crate, scraped, bruised hands hanging limp between his legs. His cheek is bruised and his shirt is torn in three places. He’s wincing away from careful hands trying to wipe at the blood on his temple.

Gabe is surprised to see Hana.

“Oh good.” She throws the napkin on the ground, “You’re here. He won’t talk to anyone.”

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Gabe pauses in front of Jack’s hunched form.

She scowls up at him, “Dancing. Jack recommended this bar to me and Lucio last time he came to eat.” She points at the squad cars, “But those douchebags followed me after I walked out. Jack was taking out the trash and told them to get lost and they had  _ guns, _ Gabe.” She waves her arms, “Guns!”

He looks down at Jack, who is avoiding all eye contact possible, “Talk to Fareeha before you head home. Maybe one of them can give you a ride.”

“Got it.” She nods, shoes crunching through ice and snow as she walks away.

Gabe squats down to Jacke’s level. He’s not wearing a jacket and Gabe has half a mind to shed his own, but he knows Jack won’t take it.

“You ready to go home?” He keeps his voice low, tries to block out the loud voices of the various cops behind them.

“Didn’t know Ana’s daughter was Fareeha.” Jack’s voice sounds like a rusty chest that hasn’t been open in decades.

“That what you want to talk about?” Gabe asks.

A sigh.

“I only meant to bring her inside. Call the cops and let them handle it.” Jack’s shoulders drop even further, “But they pulled out a gun and one of them -.” Gabe watches the harsh swallow of his throat, “Shot into the air.”

Survival at any cost.

Gabe knew that instinct all too well.

“You saved Hana’s life.” Gabe insists, “Fareeha wants me to take you home.”

Jack scoffs, “So I get off easy because I heard a gun go off and attacked someone on  _ instinct _ ? It’s one thing to get into a bar brawl, Gabe.” His eyes are tortured and miserable when he finally looks up, “I broke one of their jaws. That’s assault.”

“And I bet not a single one of them have permits for those guns.” Gabe snaps back, “Underage. Armed. Threatening people?” He points a finger angrily towards the end of the ally, “They’re all in deep shit and you saved Hana. Your instinct saved you both.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, “I could have killed them.”

“But you didn’t.” Gabe reminds him, wrapping a hand around his bicep and bearing down, “That right there is control.” Jack doesn’t look happy or convinced, “Look, come home with me. We’ll go down to the station in the morning and iron out the rest.”

Jack lets out a world-weary sigh and nods. Gabe helps him up with the grip he has on the arm, Jack stumbles a bit, but he recovers easy enough.

“Got yer jacket.” A man with messy brown hair is standing at the side door to the bar holding Jack’s jacket out.

“Thanks, Jesse.” Jack takes it from him.

“Ana said to take a few days off.”

Jack curses, “No.  _ No _ .”

Jesse jabs a finger at Gabe, “Tie him to the bed for all I fucking care. He needs a goddamn break.” The door slams shut behind him and Jack throws a nasty cuss word at it. 

“Watch your mouth.” Fareeha grins, walking up with a notepad in hand, “There are  _ children _ present.”

A harsh, ‘ _ fuck you lady _ ’ from one of the kids being cuffed.

“You really need to take me with them.” Jack stands his ground in front of her.

“I really don’t think so.” She counters, standing a full two feett shorter than him, but still every inch not backing down, “Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll come by in the afternoon and get another statement from you.” She waves the notepad, “Phone number. Your address.”

“He’s staying with me.” Gabe states with no room for argument.

“Gotcha.” She flips the pad shut, “I’ll call you when I’m on my way.” She twists around in her boots and shouts, “Get that one kid to the hospital, take the others to the station. Get them through processing, send their lawyers to the waiting room.”

A chorus of ‘yes ma’ams’ follow.

Gabe glances over at Jack, “Ready?”

Jack grunts, “As I’ll ever be.”

  
  
  


 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  


 

 

The first thing he does is usher Jack into the shower. It comes with growled protests and a ‘ _ just take me to my fucking house, Gabe _ ’, but he ignores them. He twists the water to the perfect temperature and orders Jack to strip,

“I really can just go home.” Jack is pouting now. He steps under the water, washing away the blood and dirt from the fight.

“Why?” Gabe questions, yanking his own shirt over his head.

He steps in behind Jack. It’s a tight fit, they’re big dudes, but Jack makes room enough that the water is pounding down on both of them.

“You don’t need to deal with my shit while you’re dealing with your own.” His eyes dart away, finding something fascinating with the shower curtain no doubt.

“Repeat your words back to me.” Gabe crosses his arms over his chest, not caring that his curls are now plastered to his cheeks and forehead, “From a week ago, when you stood in my kitchen and told me you wanted me.”

Jack’s eyes closed, “I told you we’d heal together.”

“Exactly.” He puts a hand out, tipping Jack’s chin up, “Doesn't matter if we’re both dealing with our own demons, we do this together or not at all.” His heart trembles, unsure, “You want to do this with me Jack? Sure sounded like you wanted to do this for real.”

“I do.” Jack’s eyes fly open, “I’m not -.”

Gabe sets both of his hands on Jack’s shoulders, glides his palms with the water down his arms to his wrists, “What are you scared of, Jack?”

A pause, a flash of something haunted and dark over that beautiful face.

Jack drags him close suddenly, foreheads knocking together and the rapid beat of Jack’s heart against his own. He takes in a shaky breath, like he’s barely holding it together and Gabe aches for him.

“You’re the best thing in my life.” Jack admits, his voice a soft croak between them, barely audible over the rush of water above their heads, “I don’t want my lack of self-control to be our undoing. I don’t want you to look at me one day and not -.” His hands shake where they hold onto Gabe’s waist, “See a human being.”

“You’re afraid you’ll never have it under control.” Gabe whispers, “The instinct. The anger.”

Jack’s nod is small, tight. 

“Then that’s what I’m here for.” Gabe insists, “To help you get through this.” He lifts his hands to Jack’s face, thumbs brushing along his jawline, “None of us can get through this shit without each other. Group therapy, one-on-one, me and you getting our routines straightened out. We do that together.” He laughs sadly, “Jack I can’t do that if you run away when we hit a bump.”

“Yea.” Jack agrees, “Sorry.”

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.” Gabe grins, “And if you get a decent amount of sleep, I’ll let you eat dessert for breakfast.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “You mean you actually put it in the fridge this time?”

Gabe sneers, “It took a lot of self-control not to taste it again before I did it.”

Jack smiles, slow and genuine, “I’m proud of you Gabe. It’s gonna be delicious.”

Gabe highly doubts that, but Jack’s words make him believe it. Just for a moment.

  
  


 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

  
  
  


Gabe wakes to warm, wide palms gliding up the inside of his thighs and a wet mouth pressing kisses into his knee. He smiles, keeping his eyes closed and basking in the heavy body settled between his legs. Jack is a patient giver, eager when riled, but slow and deliberate in the mornings. Just the way Gabe likes it.

He releases a sigh and lifts a hand to find one of Jack’s hands, letting him know he’s awake enough to enjoy.

Jack’s laugh vibrates into the soft skin on the underside of his knee, “You slept hard.”

“ _ Someone _ woke me up at four am.” Gabe cracks on eye open.

Jack looks better. Much better after - he glances over at the alarm clock - seven hours of sleep.

A hum follows the laughter, then a tongue. Jack moves the hand Gabe’s covered up to the elastic band of his underwear. He rolls it down one-handed, no easy feat, and manages to toss it over his shoulder in a span of seconds.

Gabe’s half-hard from the attention, heavy from sleep and tingling everywhere Jack touches.

Jack’s mouth makes its way up the sensitive skin of Gabe’s thighs, around the curve of his groin and finally landing at the base of his cock. Gabe hisses, heels digging into the mattress and hand curling tight into his own leg.

“I believe I owe you some  _ appreciation _ .” Jack sounds like sin incarnate, nose digging into Gabe’s cock and mouthing at the soft skin of his balls.

“I am not going to tell you no.” Gabe wheezes a laugh, knees shaking as Jack’s mouth moves again, hotter and slicker. A finger slips, already lubed, down the crack of his ass and his vision goes twinkle twinkle little star, “Oh fuck.”

Jack makes a gentle ‘mmmm’ sound and it sends pleasant shivers through his cock and into his belly.

Gabe drops his head back into the pillow and enjoys the ride. Jack works him up and eases him down, fingers spreading him open as his mouth holds slick and hot around his dick. Each twist and spread of fingers sends a pulse wave of lightening up his spine and if he makes a sound, Jack rewards him with a twirl of his tounge or a heavy suck.

It’s heady and languid and lazy. Gabe’s entire body is warm, skin flush and pleasure pooling like hot candle wax between his legs. Jack gains traction, digs his fingers in a little deeper, sucks a little harder, does some fancy work with his tongue to the tip of his dick.

He comes with a hoarse shout and Jack’s name on his lips.

Jack swallows every drop, eases his fingers free and lays a kiss on Gabe’s hip. His hands pet, gentle and loving, at Gabe’s thighs, easing the tense muscles there.

When he attempts to move away, Gabe blinks his eyes open and frowns, “Where the hell are you going?” 

Jack tilts his head, “To...get a rag to clean you up?”

“You did not just stretch me out for twenty minutes and then what - not fuck me?” He sounds indigent and irritated, which he is.

Jack grins, smooth and sly, “We’re kinda old, Gabe. You won’t be able to get it up again.” He runs a finger down Gabe’s spent, come-covered cock. It twitches, sensitive and sore from orgasm.

Gabe grapples for Jack’s arms, “Get your ass over here and fuck me Jack or you’re not getting any pie.”

Jack laughs and the sound rolls down Gabe’s spine. He does as he’s demanded, however, and lifts Gabe’s hips. His fingers drift down, spreading the lube some more and wrapping a hand around his straining cock.

He doesn’t even take his underwear off.

He fucks Gabe just like that, knees over his elbows, dick sticking out of the slit in his boxers and making sure every inch of his chest has a mark.

Gabe doesn’t get off again, but Jack does, vocally and against Gabe’s mouth. Jack shakes and his kisses turn sloppy and lazy as the high wears off.

“You promised me pie.” Jack mumbles petulantly into Gabe’s cheek.

“I did.” Gabe pats Jack’s ass, “Up.”

Jack does and Gabe follows him into the bathroom, where they both clean up a little before walking to the kitchen.

“Make some coffee?” Gabe waves towards the machine, hands a little shaky as he hovers over the handle of the fridge.

He listens to Jack do just that. The pouring of the water, the hiss as the pot turns on and starts heating everything up. He’s still staring at the handle of the fridge by the time the dark smell permeates the air.

Jack’s hand lands on his shoulder, “What are you afraid of, Gabe?”

Unfair, using his own question against him.

“I’ve been wanting to make this since I was a kid.” He admits, thumb running up and down the chrome, “Yaya had this _secret_ _ingredient_ and I spent my whole life wondering what it was and when I got the damn recipe.” He waves at the box with his other hand, “The first one didn’t taste anything like hers.”

Silence, a squeeze of Jack’s hand, “You want that slice of your childhood back.”

“Yes and no.” Gabe mumbles, “I want  _ you _ to have a piece of my childhood.”

A kiss drops to the back of his neck, “So let me have it. I’ll pour the coffee, you cut us each a slice.”

Jack’s big body moves away and Gabe hears him take out two ceramic mugs. The splash of liquid poured into them, a clink of a spoon and rush of creamer.

He opens the fridge with new resolve and pulls out the pie. The sugar mixture is in a container on the counter, so he uncaps it and sprinkles it fresh on top of the cream-colored pie. Then he cuts two slices, sets them on the same plate and grabs two forks from a drawer. He sees the blue recipe card by the stove and grabs it too.

Jack is waiting at the table for him when he turns around, smile on his face and coffee mugs set in their appropriate places. He sets the plate and the card in the center of the table and drags his chair around so he’s closer to Jack, who grins wider at the motion.

Gabe hands him one of the forks and stares down at it, stomach twisted with raw emotion.

Jack digs in first, taking a heaping helping and giving it a sniff before shoving the fork into his mouth.

Gabe watches Jack’s bright eyes widen as he chews, swallows, “That is  _ amazing _ . Did it taste this good the first time you made it?” He goes back in for another scoop, a bigger one this time around. He makes a little moaning sound around the fork, “This is better than your cinnamon rolls.”

“Hey.” Gabe protests weakly, taking a forkful himself.

“I am  _ never _ letting you go now.” Jack takes another bite, “You bake, you sew, you have a motorcycle, you’re great in bed.” The list gets longer as he eats and Gabe’s heart grows with every addition to the list.

He lifts his fork and prepares for the worst.

What he gets a cozy kitchen, his abuela’s humming, the smell of his childhood house.

It fades after a moment, Jack is finishing off his own slice and Gabe takes another bite and another and another.

“Told you it would be good.” Jack murmurs.

“It’s everything I wanted it to be.” Gabe sets his fork down, “Guess I didn’t need that secret ingredient after all.” He rises from the table and asks Jack if he wants another slice. A ‘no, maybe after lunch’ is his answer.

“Want me to start a movie?”

“Sounds good.” Jack grumbles, “Not like I can go to work.”

“So bitter.” Gabe grins, “Don’t start bar fights, Jackie.” He steps between the threshold of kitchen to living room and pauses.

“Maria’s sopapilla pie.” Jack reads aloud, “Maria.” The name is whispered.

Gabe is too busy staring at the  _ two  _ motorcycle helmets on the floor by his entertainment center. 

Jack’s  _ thing _ that he wanted to bring. To add to Gabriel’s home.

“Oh.” Jack’s exclamation turns his head around, heart thumping wildly. He’s holding the card up, but the recipe is facing Gabe, “To get the perfect taste, share with someone you love.” A wide, beautiful smile, “Quite the woman, your grandmother. My mom has the same thing written on her apple - Gabe?”

Gabe eats up the space between them in two long strides, gathering Jack’s face between his hands and kissing him like it’s his last chance.

Jack groans into it, hands grappling at Gabe’s pants and mouth opening so easy, all Gabe’s.

He tastes like coffee and pie -

And home.

  
  
  
  


 

 

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support, comments, and kudos. Ya'll keep me going strong!


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